Human Hospitality
by pureleaf
Summary: Stranded on Earth, Vegeta accepts Bulma's invitation to move in with the Briefs family and faces some serious culture shock. As royalty, Vegeta feels it is his responsibility to be a gracious guest but struggles to keep his composure. What effect does human hospitality have on the cold-hearted prince?
1. Morning Rituals

Human Hospitality  
>chapter 1<br>Morning Rituals

A/N: pureleaf is currently sickleaf and this silly idea's been rolling around in my head for a while, so here we go… (might be some formatting issues too. expect edits. my bad.)

Summary: Stranded on Earth, Vegeta accepts Bulma's invitation to move in with the Briefs family and faces some serious culture shock. As royalty, Vegeta feels it is his responsibility to be a gracious guest but struggles to keep his composure. What effect does human hospitality have on the cold-hearted prince?

* * *

><p>Sunlight had filtered through spaces in the blinds and crept halfway across the bed when Vegeta woke with a start; so shocked to wake up in a <em>human bed <em>with the smell of a _human breakfast_ drifting into his room that he bolted upright and took a few moments to regain a sense of where he was.

He was alive. He was **safe**.

"That's right," he sighed, sinking onto his elbows and glancing over the large room, "day two of my unwanted vacation. Well," he pushed himself up and got out of bed, "at least there's food downstairs."

Even Vegeta had to admit that the guest room he'd been given was more than generous: it featured hardwood floors, soft blue walls, large windows, a balcony, and a spacious en suite washroom. The bed, dresser, writing desk, and night table were all made from a dark, solid wood and to the Saiyan it appeared to be the sort of objects that might be considered heirlooms. Best of all, the bed was large and comfortable. He'd actually fallen asleep moments after collapsing into his bed, with a full stomach and pleasantly warm in soft garments humans wore as sleepwear. He had few clear memories of his first evening on Earth aside from a blonde woman offering him a great deal of food and an older man giving him clothing before showing him to his room.

As royalty, Vegeta felt it was his duty to be a gracious guest and that he _could not _threaten or harm his hosts, no matter how strong the desire. He wasn't on any sort of mission for Frieza any more, thank the gods, so there wasn't any _need _ to threaten the Earthlings. Besides, he wasn't interested in fighting the humans or halfbreed again- he wanted to wait for Kakarot to return before challenging him to a rematch. In the meantime, his hosts had the facilities for him to train under the same conditions his rival had, and Vegeta planned to take advantage of that.

He pulled off the dark blue bottoms that the old man had referred to as "flannel" and draped it over the back the chair at his desk. The older man had given him a pair of something called "jeans" and said they were popular worldwide. As the Saiyan stood in the middle of his guest room, naked from the waist down, he inspected the strange split around the waist of the garment and frowned with intense confusion and disapproval as he tried to make sense of the _tiny metal teeth _that appeared to be sewn into the clothing. Cautiously, he pulled gently at the tiny slider and watched as the teeth closed together and stayed shut.

"Huh. So it's designed to tighten and fix over the waist… rather strange that they would use fabric that doesn't stretch. Why would humans sew metal teeth into clothing and place them right against the genitals? Maybe it's to warn other humans to stay away?"

He decided to drape the jeans over the chair and put the flannel pants back on before heading downstairs to the kitchen.

"Oh, Vegeta! Good morning, honey! You must be hungry, hmm? Come and sit down- would you like some coffee?" The blonde woman, whom Vegeta presumed to be the matriarch of the family, busied herself in the kitchen with several pans on an electric cooking range. Something in the air smelled very rich and fragrant and he wondered if it was this thing called "coffee" she was referring to.

_This place keeps getting stranger by the minute… _

He took a seat at the round breakfast table. "A small plate will suffice."

"Oh, honey, coffee is a beverage! You must have never had it before," she filled a mug with the beverage and approached Vegeta from behind, placed one slender hand on his shoulder and placed the mug in front of him.

The woman's touch made him tense and his hands curled into fists. I can't hurt her, he thought, but why is she touching me like this?

Mrs. Briefs felt her strange guest grow very tense and removed her hand. "Everything alright, sweetheart? Did you sleep well?" She moved back to the stove and started filling a plate for Vegeta.

"Don't touch me! Were you planning to attack me?"

Vegeta brushed his fingertips against the mug and was surprised at how warm the vessel was.

"Goodness, no," she returned with a full plate and she set a small carton of cream on the table, "nothing like that, dear. Some find coffee a bit bitter, so you might enjoy it with a little cream. Cream is the white liquid, by the way."

"Right," he gingerly added a small amount of cream and was fascinated at how it turned the hot coffee from near-black to rich brown, "I suppose this is a popular breakfast?" Vegeta picked up his mug, noticing the cream had cooled down the coffee, and he took a cautious sip.

The coffee was warm, smooth, and almost thick on his tongue. The mouth-feel of the beverage was unlike anything he'd experienced before; the fat from the cream softened the bitter edges of the drink and enhanced the natural sweetness that came after he'd swallowed his first sip.

"This coffee, I like it," he inhaled the scent once more before taking a larger sip and found it left him feeling a little more restored, "if this isn't a popular beverage, you Earthlings are missing out."

A light laugh drifted into the kitchen, followed by the blue-haired girl, clad in black leggings and an over-sized top that revealed one creamy white shoulder. "We Earthlings figured out the magic of coffee centuries ago! Give us some credit, pal! But coffee isn't meant to be a meal, Vegeta, it's just an accompaniment. Well… sometimes people only have coffee for breakfast, but it's not a good way to start the day, believe me. Coffee has a compound called caffeine, and a lot of humans rely on it to feel energetic when they first wake up."

"I see. So you have this every morning, I presume?"

"Sure do. Don't feel right without it," she sat across from him and smiled. "So, did you sleep well?"

Vegeta poked at the food on his plate with a bare finger. There was some sort of cooked meat, a pile of something that looked like light yellow brains, raw fruit, and two slices of something brown which he could not identify. "The blonde woman already asked me the same question. I slept through the night. Are humans concerned with how others sleep?"

"It's typical for good hosts to show concern for how their guests sleep," the girl called Bulma replied, "especially since you're in for some culture shock. Oh, the yellow stuff is called scrambled eggs. You've also got sausage and toast there, and a little fruit," she pointed at each respective item, "all of these are popular breakfast foods."

Vegeta scooped up some of the scrambled egg with his fingers and popped it in his mouth. The texture alone was almost enough to make him vomit and he spit it back onto his plate. "Eugh! Repulsive stuff! What kind of eggs do you people eat?"

"That's disgusting, Vegeta! It's alright if you don't like something, but you're supposed to spit it into a napkin!" Bulma passed a wad of paper napkins to her disgusted guest.

"Oh," Vegeta took a single napkin and wiped his mouth, "well, never serve that dish again!"

He picked up a sausage and bit into it. He was pleasantly surprised by how savoury it was, and decided that sausage, fruit and coffee made for a fine breakfast. He'd get the blonde woman to prepare more of them in the future. "This, however, is very good. More of this, always."

Bulma was about to chastise Vegeta for not using utensils when Dr. Briefs shuffled into the kitchen, puffing on his first cigarette of the day. "Ah, you're up, son! Did you sleep well?"

The prince let out a long, exasperated sigh. "That's the third time a human has enquired about my sleeping habits! Is once not enough?"

"Just being a good host, my boy," Dr. Briefs tapped the end of his cigarette over an empty ashtray in the middle of the table, "I see you're drinking coffee. Is it to your liking?"

Vegeta started to feel that his hosts were going to seriously test his patience.


	2. Basic Concepts

Human Hospitality

by pureleaf

Chapter 2

Basic Concepts

* * *

><p>After breakfast, Dr. Briefs offered to show Vegeta around the living areas of the Capsule Corp's compound. Not certain on how he would begin to spend all his free time, Vegeta shrugged and wordlessly followed the man through the bright and modern (at least by human standards) home.<p>

"The bedrooms and guest rooms are upstairs, as you already know," Dr. Briefs stopped to light another cigarette, "and you took the main stairwell to the kitchen."

"Get on with it," Vegeta turned his head to avoid the acrid smoke.

The scientist showed him a spacious living room filled with comfortable furniture, books, art and photographs. The living quarters also had a home office, a small personal library, two workshops, lab facilities, a well-stocked gym, and a massive conservatory filled with thousands of plants.

"You are wealthy." Vegeta reached out to feel the smooth, deep green leaves of a small palm tree and searched through his memory for a comparable plant.

Dr. Briefs noticed that Vegeta wasn't __asking __if Dr. Briefs was wealthy but rather __confirming__ what he already knew. The older man could help but wonder what riches his strange guest had encountered in his past travels.

"You could say so, yes. Are you interested in seeing the grounds?"

"Show to me the gravity simulator."

* * *

><p>"As you can see, this model is in need of repairs. I could have it up and running within the week, if you'd like," Dr. Briefs pointed to various components on the large circuit-board of the gravity simulator's main controllers, thoroughly enjoying the opportunity to talk about one of his latest inventions to a particularly interested guest.<p>

The Saiyan couldn't keep up with what his host was talking about, but he listened out of politeness and to figure out just how Kakarot had used the device to train for his battle with Frieza. So far, the only things he knew for certain were that Kakarot had used a gravity simulator to train while travelling to Namek, and that Kakarot had ascended to Super Saiyan after using that simulator.

"A week? Hmph," Vegeta sniffed, "that's too much time spent __not __training. Tell me, what settings did Kakarot use on the gravity simulator you built for him?"

The young man is determined, thought Dr. Briefs, but is he even aware of the risks involved?

"I can't say for certain, son, but the model I built for Goku went up to one hundred times Earth's gravity. If you use the simulator, it's pertinent that you use extreme caution! Setting the simulator too high could literally crush you!"

"What does "pertinent" mean?"

"It means that something is very important or highly relevant," explained the scientist, "I cannot stress enough that you need to be very careful when you use the simulator. Do you understand?"

"Do I look like an idiot?"

"Hardly," Dr. Briefs shut the control panel, "but until the gravity simulator is repaired, you are more than welcome to use the fitness facilities here. If you like running outside, there's a track you can take around the property too. I'll get started on it today."

"Fine."

The prince turned away from his host and started to leave for the living quarters when Dr. Briefs cleared his throat and asked: "By the way, son, were you planning to wear pyjamas all day long?"

* * *

><p>Never did Dr. Briefs imagine he'd be explaining how clothing worked to his guest. After some resistance, Vegeta agreed to let Dr. Briefs show him some basic articles of clothing from his own closet and explained their purpose and how to put them on. The Saiyan took an immediate dislike to stiff, heavier fabrics and, when he asked about "the teeth" in the jeans, he felt embarrassed and furious at his own ignorance when told it was just something called a "zipper" and that many articles of clothing featured them.<p>

After searching through his closet, Dr. Briefs found a few items for Vegeta to wear. The Saiyan seemed to prefer light, breathable fabrics, preferably free of any buttons or zippers, which meant he found himself giving away too-small athletic wear he'd never worn more than twice, clean socks, old sweatshirts and sweatpants, T-shirts and plain white undershirts. He packed everything into a to large paper sack with cardboard handles. "They're nothing formal, but these are fine for training and being around the house. When you're more settled, Bulma or I could help you find new clothes. If you'll be here for a while, it makes sense to have a whole new wardrobe!"

"Enough!" Barked Vegeta, before he lowered his voice to a normal pitch and volume, "yes, thank you, these will be suitable for my training. I'd like to get started now. Good bye."

He quickly turned away and left for his own bedroom very quickly.

"Guess he's eager to burn off that breakfast…" said Dr. Briefs with a shrug.

* * *

><p>Although Vegeta found his old boots, he was rather troubled by the fact that he could not locate his old clothing or armour. After searching through all the drawers only to find them empty, he decided he could leave the issue until later. Training was more important than his old clothes. He changed into a pair of grey sweatpants and a black tank top with some sort of neon pink design across the chest and slipped on his boots, tucking the pants into the wide shaft of the boot. He inspected himself in the mirror and shook his head in disapproval.<p>

"Earth fashion looks __really __stupid."

He made his way down to the fitness facilities and started to inspect the equipment, humming with approval at the free weights and what he was certain passed for human weight machines when the realization that he wasn't able to read the script on any of the equipment dawned on him. Worse yet, the machines that were designed to simulate running on different inclines and speeds had to be programmed in order to run!

After a few moments deliberation, Vegeta decided he'd try finding the blue-haired girl. He tried the living room and the kitchen before going upstairs and trying each bedroom until he located hers. The girl's bedroom, as he discovered, was across the hall from his own. Vegeta opened the door and walked in, finding her sitting at her desk with a towel wrapped across her torso and her hair dripping water that rolled down the backs of her creamy shoulders.

He was stunned by the sight of her. She was __gorgeous. __

She realized that he was standing there and yelped in surprise, defensively crossing her arms across her chest. "You need to knock first if the door's closed!"

"You need to fix the running machines, now!"

"What?! Vegeta, they all work perfectly. You just need to select the program you want and put in a few numbers when prompted."

"Well, I don't understand the script."

Bulma rose from her chair and gave a slow nod to indicate she understood what he wanted. "You need to leave my room while I get dressed, and then I can help you, okay? Then we can set up a custom program just for you!"

He turned and left her room without a word, shutting the door behind him.

Turning back to her desk, Bulma pulled out her notepad and jotted down a single thought: "looks like Vegeta needs to be taught a few basic concepts…"


	3. Appetite and Measurement

Human Hospitality

by pureleaf

Chapter 3

Appetite and Measurement

A/N: Thanks for your reviews and comments so far. I love reading them!

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><p>After the blue-haired girl had helped Vegeta set up a custom programs on a machine she called an "elliptical" and another machine called a "treadmill", he rotated between the two machines and figured out how to use most of the weight equipment. A fair amount of it he found useful. He made mental notes throughout his workout and told himself to set up a new routine within the next day or two. He'd have to ask the blue haired girl for more assistance if he wanted to use some of the more complicated equipment.<p>

Three hours later and Vegeta's hunger returned for the first time in what seemed like many days. He vaguely recalled eating some creature on Namek, and his light eating on Earth. Breakfast had been satisfying (aside from the eggs) but it wasn't enough to keep a Saiyan sated for very long.

His human hosts were about to discover just how much a Saiyan could _really_ eat.

The first place Vegeta checked for food was the refrigerator. His eyes widened and a crooked smile just touched the left side of his face as he scanned its contents and pulled out everything that looked appealing: fresh fruit, a creamy white block of _something _he could smell through its clear packaging, some kind of still-warm roasted bird in a clear-top container, bottles of juices and metallic tins he couldn't read, a circular item that looked to be covered in a brown, fluffy substance, and a container filled with green and purple leaves.

Next, he looked through the cupboards. Some held plates and glasses, he learned, and others held shelf-stable food. Vegeta couldn't understand the colourful packaging, but he picked out buttery crackers, a package of cream sandwich cookies, nacho cheese flavoured corn chips, a jar of salsa, a jar of hazelnut spread, peanut butter, half a loaf of whole wheat bread, and two easy-open tins of tuna fish.

The humans did use eating utensils, he recalled, and pulled open all the drawers until he located one filled with silver objects. He immediately identified the serrated knife and found a large spoon, but he didn't know what to make of the utensil with four pointed prongs at the top. So, Vegeta took a steak knife and stainless steel serving spoon to the table and dug into his meal.

An hour later, Bulma came down the stairs and gasped when she saw Vegeta sitting cross-legged _on_ the table, scooping up the last bits of salsa from the jar. He'd already consumed an entire roast chicken, two quarts of milk, a pint each of orange and apple juice, a box of crackers, package of cookies, more than two thirds of the chocolate cake Mrs. Briefs had just purchased earlier that day, all the grapes, four bananas, three oranges, several apples, a tin of tuna, two tins of diet soda, and almost half a container of salad greens.

"Don't spoil your dinner, pal!" Bulma joked as she opened the refrigerator and found he really had ransacked it. He'd even taken an 800 gram block of white cheddar cheese!

"This red stuff..."

"It's called salsa, and the crunchy orange triangles are called chips."

"More from now on. Stock your kitchen with it. I like it."

"Good combination, isn't it? You must have been feeling adventurous to try so much food on your own!"

"I was hungry, you prying girl. You humans were smart enough to provide food and I procured it when necessary."

She laughed and pushed her hair back from her face. "Whatever. Do you at least want to know what you ate? It was pretty good, huh? Otherwise you wouldn't have eaten so much of it!"

After a few moments of consideration, and debating if he even wanted to know what he was really eating, Vegeta reluctantly agreed. She explained what each item was. Vegeta decided he liked chicken, cheese, salsa, chips, and fruit the most. He didn't like the way peanut butter stuck to the roof of his mouth, or the way cookie crumbs stuck to his back teeth.

"This is called cake," she picked up the remaining cake and brought it to the counter, "and I'll show you what to drink it with. Did you like it?"

He nodded and stuck a chip deep into the jar of hazelnut spread, pulled it out and popped it in his mouth. After chewing only once or twice, his face went blank and jaw movements seemed robotic until he swallowed it. "That however, was awful. What is this brown substance?"

"Hazelnut spread. It's better paired with fruit or on bread and is usually eaten for breakfast or as part of dessert. Care for more coffee?"

"Yes."

"Would you care to sit down in a chair like you did this morning?"

"No."

"Okay, then," Bulma scooped ground coffee into the percolator's basket, "just sit where you're comfortable. I will have to get rid of the food you're done with, alright?"

"Do what you must, girl."

"You know," she collected the scraps and trash and threw it all into a small trash bag, "I _am _an adult woman, and my name is Bulma! It's acceptable for you to call me by my name and don't worry about any special titles!"

Vegeta coolly glanced over her body twice over and shrugged, indifferent to her words. "I would not mistake you for royalty. Even pathetic human royalty would possess much more grace."

Bulma scoffed and rolled her eyes, but when the opportunity to make a quick retort expired in silence she could feel her frustration building. She wanted to launch his insult back in his face, but the fear that he'd become violent held her back. His speech, she was starting to realize, managed to be formal but clunky, with an odd accent that darkened his vowels and sent some phonemes to the back of his throat. Vegeta demonstrated a sharp wit when he wasn't giving terse, monosyllabic responses. The percolator finished brewing coffee, so she focused her attention on pouring two mugs of coffee and cutting the remaining cake into two pieces so she could enjoy at least some of it.

She brought two mugs of coffee with cream to the table, followed by two slices of cake. Bulma took a seat across from Vegeta, who hadn't moved from his cross-legged position in the center of the table.

He took a sip of coffee and hummed in appreciation.

"Try a forkful of cake. It'll taste amazing now."

"How do you use a forkful?"

_Oh my god, he doesn't even know what a fork is. What fucked up society did this guy come from? Did he just pronounce "forkful" as "for-ka-ful"? _

"Oh, don't mind it, Vegeta. You can use that spoon if you're more comfortable with that. We'll go over utensils a bit later. Just drink your coffee while it's still hot."

When he'd all but finished his slice of cake, Vegeta finally nodded in approval and looked Bulma up and down again. "You were right. The coffee and thing you call cake do taste good together. What is the cake?"

"Cake is a sweet, obviously, food that is baked and served for dessert or on very special occasions. What you're tasting in that cake is called chocolate. The cake has other ingredients too, obviously, but it's chocolate-flavoured."

"Then I should like to try this chocolate independent of the cake."

"Wow, Vegeta, you've got quite the adventurous palate! We don't have any chocolate in the house at the moment, but I could get some good chocolate for you to try after dinner. And, if you don't mind me asking, just what the hell are you wearing? That outfit is, uh, creative."

The Saiyan felt a hot surge of anger shoot through his veins. How dare she condescend him! He took a long sip of coffee, swallowed, and glared at her. "What is wrong with it, then? I can not be faulted for your stupid and bulky clothing."

"Bulky?! That's not even _heavy _human clothing, Vegeta. You must have a preference for light materials that show off your great body, hmm?"

He cringed. "It is not about exhibiting my body for entertainment, you vulgar woman, it is about being able to move... but if my attempt to adopt Earth fashion is so wrong, _do enlighten _me on how to improve myself in your eyes!"

_Doesn't take much to stoke this guy's anger, huh? _

"First of all," Bulma drained her mug of coffee, "don't tuck your pants into those white boots. It's not unacceptable but it does look tacky. Secondly, you're not supposed to wear white shoes at this time of year."

"I haven't any other footwear and wasn't aware that humans considered colours to be seasonal. Unless you should like to procure footwear for me, this critique is without merit."

Bulma shrugged. "Fair enough, Vegeta. Would you let me measure your feet so I could find the right size shoe for you? I'll be going out for your chocolate anyway. Now that I think about it, you could use some of your own clothing. It's pretty obvious you're wearing my Dad's stuff! Don't worry, I'll find you stuff that'll keep you warm, let you move, and is fashionable!"

The Saiyan pulled off his right boot and held his foot in front of Bulma. "Measure!"

* * *

><p>After the food and having his feet measured, along with his inseam, waist, chest, and across the breadth of his shoulders, Vegeta returned to the home gym to perform a movement routine he'd learned in his twenties. He didn't like being measured by Bulma, but she promised to pick up clothing he'd like wearing. He felt more alert with a full stomach, and his new environment suddenly became much more real to him.<p>

Twenty five minutes into his preset forty minute high-resistance run on the treadmill, he jumped off the machine and held his hand over his heart. It was pounding not from exertion but from mounting anxiety. He felt his skin go clammy and stomach clench painfully.

Vegeta didn't know what to call these "attacks", but he knew the only way he could cope was to force himself to maintain steady breath and to stay still and quiet. He could only hope that the humans wouldn't see him in his state. After many painful minutes, his heart finally slowed to a normal pace and stomach unclenched. His hands trembled. He felt sweat running down the back of his neck and knew he had to get clean before it dried and the smell of his own fear clung to him, lest the humans smell it during the evening meal.


	4. Recollection

Human Hospitality  
>by pureleaf<p>

Chapter 4  
>Recollection<p>

Author's Note: Many thanks to cara9001, Mrs. Raditz'n'Nappa, qkumber, xSmallLadySerenity13, and anonymous for the lovely reviews! As always, feel free to leave reviews, comments, or shoot a PM my way! -pureleaf

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><p>Bunny leafed through a magazine, reclined on a chaise-lounge in the living room. She hadn't seen her guest in several hours, but she had noticed he'd raided her refrigerator and cupboard.<p>

She didn't know what to make of him, but sensed he desperately needed a place to rest and recover from some unspoken ordeal. Something was haunting the strange man but he seemed determined to keep pushing forward- what he was aiming to achieve or acquire, Bunny did not know, but she knew there had to be more to him.

Besides, she thought, it was nice to have such a fit young man around the house...

At three thirty in the afternoon, Bulma returned home with more groceries and two large canvas bags stuffed with brand new athletic gear and shoes.

"Vegeta must have been hungry if he ate an entire chicken! I guess the grocery list is going to become a lot longer for the next while," Bunny followed Bulma into the kitchen and started to unpack the groceries.

"I don't even want to think about how much this is gonna cost..." muttered Bulma, sitting at the kitchen table and cutting price tags off of garments, "at least the Namekians don't eat! And unlike the so-called prince in our house, they haven't been demanding or imposing, either! How can you just brush off this guy's attitude and appetite, Mom?"

"Maybe he's a little overwhelmed, honey. You need to remember he's not from around here and might find our way of life a little strange. He seemed so dazed when I first saw him... must have been through an awful lot! After all, he showed up here covered in dirt and with that torn clothing! Oh, speaking of that, I washed that outfit he showed up in; would you return it to him when you bring those new clothes up?"

"Sure, Mom. So, if Vegeta ate all the chicken and your cake, then what are we going to do for dinner?"

"Do you think he'll even want dinner, Bulma?"

"If Vegeta's anything like Goku, he'll want five dinners!"

"Oh, dear..."

* * *

><p>Vegeta had figured out how to draw a hot bath in his en suite washroom and decided the smooth white bar wrapped in waxed paper <em>had <em>to be soap. He was impressed by how quickly the bathtub filled and by the warmth of the water. The soap smelled good but left his skin feeling dry, and he wondered if humans had extremely oily skin or if they deliberately stripped their skin of its natural oil and replaced it with something else. Vegeta decided he'd ask the woman called Bunny for a salve or skin oil next time he saw her.

The Saiyan disliked washing his hair and paid little mind to the pastel green bottles and blue circular container that had been set on his sink. He let himself slide into the water and rubbed his scalp until he couldn't stand it any longer. When he came back up, he saw the bathwater was tinged grey and quickly pushed himself out of the tub.

After patting himself dry with a towel, Vegeta stood in front of the mirror and stared at his reflection. He inspected his hairline and wondered if it would recede any further; checked his teeth, finding he really had chipped two incisors and lower left cuspid during his time on Namek. Finally, he ran his fingers over the spots where Frieza's fatal blast had penetrated and exited his body, still in disbelief over the lack of scars or lingering injury after his unexpected resurrection.

_Was I really dead? I left my body, that much is certain. And yet despite knowing my body stopped working, I've yet to make sense of where my spirit went... or didn't go... _

There had been no Hell nor Heaven when Vegeta died. There hadn't been an otherworldly "check-in station" or a guiding light that drew him to a creator or overseer, not even a spectre or spirit to inform the Saiyan he had perished and it was time to leave the mortal realm; there had been _nothing_. He had felt himself being plunged into an icy darkness as wide as an ocean and a million fathoms deep, and Vegeta could do nothing but hang there, suspended in this nowhere realm that seemed to absorb all light and sound, and his spirit recognized very quickly that this would be its eternal prison. With no mouth, he could not scream with fury or in fright, and with no body he could not run or fight his way out of this empty space. There was no way out, nobody to have mercy or even argue with, and nothing for him to grab on to or to find comfort in.

Hours into this new eternity, Vegeta found himself facing Kakkarot in this blackness and urged his rival to destroy Frieza, all past conflicts with Kakkarot be damned, he begged his nemesis to complete the task he'd failed to see through to the end, one Saiyan spirit to another Saiyan spirit. Those seconds with Kakkarot had been a fleeting, beautiful moment of mercy before he was once again alone in the darkness.

When he suddenly woke up again, back in his own body, the weight of soil crushing his chest and forcing him to claw frantically upwards, he actually hoped he'd finally arrived in Hell- anything to get away from the no-space he'd been trapped in before.

When he realized he was on Namek, by then going to hell in a hand-basket, a deep sense of gratitude and even _joy _grew inside his chest like a bubble and simply couldn't pop. Moments later, after confronting Frieza one more time, he found himself transported to a sunny, grassy field miles outside a major city. Vegeta recognized he was back on Earth and couldn't help but laugh at the wonderful absurdity of his situation.

* * *

><p>Bulma knocked on Vegeta's door, and when she didn't hear anything from his room, she went inside and started sorting his new clothing into different drawers, unaware he'd slipped out of the washroom and stood mere feet away from her, completely naked and still damp from his bath. It took a minute before Bulma caught his figure in her peripheral vision and jumped back. "Jesus! That's the second time you've startled me today!"<p>

"What are you doing in here?" He suspiciously eyed her canvas bags.

"I'm putting your new clothes away, Vegeta. Were you in the washroom this whole time? Speaking of which, you may want to consider getting dressed..."

"After I get skin salve. Get it for me now. The old man explained how these garments work, I don't need you to put things away for me."

"Salve?! Did scrape yourself?"

The Saiyan rolled his eyes and approached the chest of drawers with his clothing, looking through the items she'd brought him. "Salve, balm, skin oil! Something for dried out skin, girl, am I making myself clear enough yet?"

He decided the clothing Bulma had purchased were substantially better than what he'd been wearing before as he pulled out a soft blue t-shirt and black sweatpants with a drawstring waist. He spotted the brand new athletic shoes and sandals she'd also purchased for him and decided to try the human version of open-toed footwear.

She scoffed and turned on her heel, exiting his room quickly. He noticed how her hips swung and the corners of his mouth turned up slightly. It was nice having an attractive woman around, and even better that she didn't seem at all reserved or prudish.

Bulma stood in the doorway to Vegeta's room and tossed a large white bottle at him. "Here, pal, try this. It's called lotion. You just rub it into your skin until it's absorbed, alright? It's my bottle, but you can have it, alright?"

"Hmm," he unscrewed the cap and sniffed cautiously, unsure of how to feel about its somewhat sweet fragrance, "then perhaps someday my complexion will look as lovely as yours." He cocked a brow and the left side of his mouth curled into a crooked smile.

"Whatever, Vegeta. Dinner will be in a few hours. I blew one of my stereo speakers before I went to Namek, so today I'm finally going to repair it. If you need something, I'll be in the lab. Oh, and by the way, it's not acceptable to talk to people when you're nude. Just a heads up!" She flashed a grin and left his room again.

Dumbfounded by her statement, he followed her into the hallway and shot back: "You came into my room first! What was I supposed to do, throw you out?"

Bulma ignored him and went downstairs. He stood there, hair still dripping down his bare back, and shook his head in disbelief at her rudeness. Humans were a _strange_ bunch.


	5. Settling In

Human Hospitality

by pureleaf

Chapter 5

Settling In

Author Note: Thanks for your reviews!

* * *

><p>By the time seven o'clock rolled around, Bunny and Bulma had decided it would be best just to order something for dinner, not knowing how much their guest would eat and if he'd even enjoy the meal. Aware that Vegeta's Saiyan appetite seemed to be returning (and very quickly at that) they chose to order a few different types of cuisine from around the world: Italian, Lebanese, and Mexican.<p>

Vegeta had opted to take a nap after his encounter with Bulma, and when he awoke in the evening his nose wrinkled at the lingering scent of that lotion the blue-haired girl had given him. It wasn't a foul smell, or even terribly offensive, but Vegeta knew his sense of smell was much more sensitive than that of the humans he was living with, and he suspected that humans _loved _to smell sweet.

And then, he smelled dinner. He couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was, but something downstairs smelled very good and his stomach was growling.

Bunny seemed thrilled to see him again and rattled off a short list of beverages she had available. When Vegeta realized she was offering him beer, his curiosity was piqued. "If humans have beer, then I should like to try human beer."

"You drink?" Bulma sat in the chair across from Vegeta's, genuinely surprised at her guest's choice of beverage.

"Beer and wine were staple beverages in Saiyan society," Vegeta gave Bunny a nod when she placed an icy brown bottle at his place, "and true Saiyans are very fond of their drink."

"That sounds promising..."

He twisted the cap off, sniffed, took a cautious sip, and swished the liquid in his mouth before swallowing. Human beer tasted like a lighter, slightly sweeter version of Saiyan beer. "I like this... hmm. Furthermore, I have decided human cuisine is quite good, based on what I have tried in a single day."

"We decided to order-in, seeing as you ate more in one sitting than sometimes I do in three days..." Bulma imitated the smirk Vegeta had flashed at her earlier that day.

"Bulma, that's not very nice! Vegeta's a guest and he's more than welcome to eat whatever he likes and as much as he likes. Besides, your friend Goku has quite the appetite, too! Here, honey," Mrs. Briefs set small plates in front of each place at the table and took a seat to Vegeta's left, "you're going to need somebody to explain the different types of food available tonight."

"Yeah, you're getting a little tour of the world through food, Vegeta. Aren't you lucky we're going to indulge you?" Bulma took two pita and a container of hummus and dug in.

_Does she mean these people seriously don't have some type of standard cuisine? What kind of planet am I trapped on?!_

He chose to try pita bread and took a small container of toum, figuring it had to be a safe choice.

_It's official: humans are pathetic, weak creatures..._

He dipped his bread in the white sauce, took a cautious bite, and his eyes widened with surprise as he chewed. The bread was soft and warm and the sauce was cool and creamy and wonderfully pungent and it all tasted of something that reminded him of thing he'd eaten as a very young boy.

_...who are capable of making some really delicious food._

* * *

><p>By ten thirty, Vegeta lay in bed with the covers drawn to his collarbone, eyelids growing heavier by the minute. He was full of good food and riding a pleasant buzz from the beer. He could still smell the lotion and decided he didn't like how the scent lingered. He'd literally gone years without a proper bath or shower at times, instead relying on steam baths just before his pod landed or rinsing off in streams or under rainfall once a planet's water was deemed safe and unpolluted. Living and working with two older Saiyans also meant Vegeta had become very used to smelling and looking unpleasant and really not caring what anybody thought. It was jarring to suddenly have the opportunity to bathe whenever he wanted, for as long as he wanted, and then actually take the time to look over his appearance and take care of his skin...<p>

It was overwhelming.

The food had been excellent, and Bunny a remarkably patient guide. If she noticed his brusqueness, she did a fine job of ignoring it and treating him as a member of her own family. Vegeta decided he liked Mexican and Lebanese food the most- and it seemed acceptable to eat these particular foods with his hands. He didn't like something called "spaghetti" because he couldn't figure out how exactly to handle the utensils Bulma _insisted _ he use, and when he gave up and tried to eat it with his hands she started screaming at him, saying it was "disgusting" and rudely asking if he'd been raised in something called a "barn".

He wanted to ask her if she was something called a "bitch" but managed to hold his tongue.

I will not be mocked by a human for how I am most comfortable eating, he thought resentfully, she has no right to speak to me like that!

He rolled over in his soft bed and shut his eyes. It wasn't long before he was fast asleep.

* * *

><p>The next three days passed by with very little incident. The Briefs and Vegeta ate almost all their meals together, although Bulma had started taking a thermos of coffee and container of yogurt to the lab and disappearing for hours at a stretch most mornings. Vegeta discovered unscented lotion courtesy of Dr. Briefs when he worked up the nerve to ask him privately about how frequently he was expected to bathe. Although he was quite happy to take a bath or shower every day, he still refrained from using something called "shampoo" on his hair after discovering it was the oddest shade of bright, opalescent green and absolutely reeked of a cloying perfume.<p>

Late in the evening on the third full day, Bulma found a wide tooth comb Vegeta could use to pick through his hair after he'd barged into her room and started complaining loudly and continuously. The lack of proper Saiyan grooming tools, with special attention paid to his mane of hair, preferably by a trusted partner, was something he started to sorely miss now that he had free time to focus on his appearance. He remembered when Raditz took time to pick through his hair whenever they had downtime and was even nostalgic for a few minutes before feelings of resentment seeped in to his consciousness.

They were trying their best to accommodate him and Vegeta knew that. Still, he couldn't shake his frustration and the gnawing feeling he wasn't training hard enough. By mid-afternoon on his fourth full day on Earth, he'd used the gym twice and had run laps around the spacious grounds of the Capsule Corporation for close to an hour.

The Namekians, who had taken up residence in small guest houses surrounded by flower beds and shady trees, warily eyed the Saiyan as he passed by on his run. Vegeta briefly made eye contact with one small Namekian wearing white and red robes before focusing his attention back to the running track.

He didn't like how the Namekian had looked at him; the young alien's expression wasn't one of contempt or fear, but instead an expression of _pity_.

You wouldn't have survived two days in my childhood, thought Vegeta, a cold spike of anger running up his spine.

He went back to the house and straight up to his bedroom and changed into fresh clothing before heading downstairs to the lab. It hadn't been a week but Vegeta didn't care- why couldn't the old man just get the damn gravity generator up and running?

When he entered the lab, the smell of freshly welded metal hit his nose and made him involuntarily furrow his brow. The gravity simulator was an impressive piece of technology, even Vegeta could admit; its smooth white and black exterior and small port-hole windows were unlike anything he'd seen in his travels.

The more he got to know the humans who had taken him in, the more humans as a species confused him. Vegeta could begrudgingly admit humans weren't entirely stupid, considering their capacity for intergalactic travel (if only on a minute scale) and their advanced methods of communication, but they certainly were _weird_. They really seemed to aim for consistency in their daily lives and didn't appear the least bit interested in exerting energy over long periods of time. He had no idea how any of them could sit on the couch for hours at a stretch, reading magazines, working, or watching television, but he'd seen all three of them doing it!

"Hey, Vegeta! Talk about serendipity, I was going to go looking for you in a few minutes!" Bulma cut the fuel supply to her welding torch, set it down in its holster, and pulled back her thick protective mask to reveal flushed cheeks and a wide grin. Her hair was scraped back into a small ponytail and she wore a baseball hat with the brim to the back.

The Saiyan was quite intrigued by how she looked at that moment.

"Come on up! I thought you might be interested in seeing the progress on the gravity machine!"

He jumped up to her elevated platform and did not take care to land gently.

"Watch it! This isn't athletic equipment, you know!" She clung to the railing as the platform rocked from side to side.

"You said to come up, so I came up! Stop with your silly complaints at once and show me what you're doing now, I am growing tired of waiting for a functioning gravity machine to materialize."

Bulma rolled her eyes and adjusted her cap. "It hasn't even been five days, Vegeta! I have a life too, you know! Look, the time spent just simulating the effects of this machine has nearly set us back by a full day or two. There's a lot of adjustments to be made, and we're also reinforcing the frame, walls and windows so the structure can withstand even more pressure than the simulator Goku trained in. I know you how much you want to train, but there's no way this is going to be up by tomorrow if that's what you came to ask me. You're more than welcome to check out the machine with me, if you'd like."

"I... uh, I," Vegeta stammered, "yes, I suppose if you're creating a superior machine for a superior Saiyan, it would take more time," that crooked smile appeared, "so I should like to see what you've done so far."

Nice save there buddy, thought Bulma, knowing she'd shut him down before he could start acting unreasonable just to get his way.

"I'm reinforcing the exterior walls and windows today. Yesterday we reinforced the interior walls and the floor; we added a special kind of rubber tile to absorb some of the shock if you're going to be jumping around in there. Come on, I'll show you the inside." She brought the platform down to ground level and hopped off. Arms folded across his chest, Vegeta followed her into the machine.

At the centre of the machine's round interior was a huge cylindrical structure that went from the floor to the ceiling. Portable halogen lamps flooded the gravity simulator with uncomfortably bright light. At waist level was a console and control panel, still disconnected from a central power supply.

"This will be your main training area. There's a lower level too, equipped with a low-flow shower and toilet, and a small area to eat and rest. Just so you know, the washroom on here won't work unless you turn off the gravity simulator. This is the second machine my Dad and I have worked on and we're trying to make it as fail-safe as possible."

"I see," Vegeta ran his fingers of the controls and frowned at his reflection in the dark computer screen, "what script will the computer run? Surely you'll have the displays in Galactic Standard."

"What the hell is Galactic Standard? Is that the weird script that was displayed on the scouter Raditz wore?"

"If you want to call it that," Vegeta sneered, "it's designed to be easily read and spoken by a vast number of species. I speak Saiyan, Galactic Standard, and whatever language you're speaking. How many species communicate using your written script?"

Bulma's eyed widened when she realized that she had never really questioned just how Vegeta could communicate with her. Truth be told, it was a bit horrifying to know he'd landed on Earth already knowing the language. Sure, his speech was a bit awkward, but he spoke English fluently and had since he'd landed on Earth, and so had Raditz, and that was no coincidence.

"A few billion people speak this language. It's called English. There's a lot of different languages on Earth. So, uh, how _do _you understand what I'm saying?"

"Microchip." His face momentarily hardened as though blocking some terrible memory from coming to the surface.

She knew he wasn't going to provide a more detailed explanation and let it be.

"Sorry, Vegeta, but I don't know Galactic Standard. In fact, I never heard of it until you brought it up. Would you be willing to spend some time learning the controls if I programmed the computer to display simple commands?"

"I have little else to do."

"Then it's agreed. I can probably get the computer up in two days and spend some time with you then. At this point, it's just a big, empty ship."

"Hmm. You'd better not waste any more time and get back to working on my big, empty ship, then. Good-bye."

He moved swiftly to the machine's entrance steps and swung his legs over the railing jumped out of sight.

"See you at dinner, too, Vegeta... jeez. What a weird guy..." by the time Bulma had left the machine, Vegeta was long gone. She had no idea where he'd gone.

_Probably back to the gym, if he isn't searching for food..._

Bulma raised her platform, lowered her welder's mask, and turned her torch back on. She had no idea how long it would really take to complete the machine and hoped Vegeta's patience would hold out for another few days.


	6. Outburst

Human Hospitality  
>by pureleaf<p>

Chapter 6  
>Outburst<p>

A/N: As always, thanks for the reviews!

* * *

><p>Two days later, Bulma had successfully programmed the computers in the gravity machine and wanted to show Vegeta. It was one in the afternoon and Bulma thought the house seemed <em>too <em>quiet, even with her father at Capsule Corporation headquarters for a meeting and her mother on an outing. Vegeta wasn't in the gym and he hadn't wandered over to the lab like she'd thought he would.

He wasn't in the kitchen nor had he gone up to his bedroom. Bulma checked her bedroom, her parents' bedroom, the patio and the gardens, but there was no sign of Vegeta anywhere.

Finally she found Vegeta in the living room, curled up under a navy blue shawl and dozing in a reclining chair that was currently centred in a wide beam of warm sunlight. It was the first time she noticed an auburn undertone to his dark hair and for once he appeared relaxed.

_He's rather handsome when he isn't scowling... he almost looks innocent like that... _

"Yes?" Muttered Vegeta, voice soft and eyes still shut.

"Hi there, I didn't mean to disturb you. Just thought you'd want to know that I have the computer system up and running for the gravity machine, and can lead you through a tutorial whenever you'd like."

The Saiyan slowly sat up and stretched his arms above his head. "Mm. Good," he yawned, "but I'm hungry. Make me something now. Then you shall teach me."

"What, don't know how to make your own lunch, bud? If you're gonna be here for at least a few months, you'd better learn how to fend for yourself in the kitchen! Do you think I'm some sort of servant at your beck and call? Get real!"

The Saiyan's face hardened into that cold mask and he rose out of the chair, movements fluid and swift. He found himself looking at her slender neck and collarbone and something deep inside wanted to gently touch her and find out what her skin felt like.

Bulma felt her heart pounding in her chest as Vegeta stared at her. He definitely stopped looking innocent.

"I am an elite warrior and I am royalty, and you are to recognize and respect my status. You should not want to see what I will do if you continue to speak to me with such disrespect. You will feed me now!"

"Ugh! Fine, Vegeta," she backed out of the living room and darted into the kitchen. Vegeta followed her and took his usual spot at the breakfast table.

She wound up ordering two pizzas.

"Lazy..." muttered Vegeta. His stomach growled. He folded his arms over his chest, shut his eyes, and proceeded to wait.

After his fourth slice of cheese, pepperoni, mushroom and green pepper pizza, Vegeta found his mood settling and he genuinely wanted to learn how to use the program Bulma had created for him. Pizza turned out to be very good; it featured cheese and it was acceptable to eat it with his hands. He didn't know why she kept poking away at some sort of tablet as she ate absentmindedly, but he was confused and insulted by how little attention she paid to both her food _and _her guest. Both actions were considered a serious insult in Saiyan culture.

"So," Vegeta began through a mouthful of pizza crust, "when are we going to the gravity simulator? Why do you insist on ignoring me?"

"I'm not ignoring you," sighed Bulma, taking another tiny bite from her second slice of pizza, "I'm trying to set up this tutorial for you on the tablet. You can't go in the simulator right now beca-"

The Saiyan's content mood suddenly turned into deep annoyance bordering on anger. "Why the hell not?! You said it'd be done by now! Has it not been a week?"

"You can't go in because the interior was just sprayed with a flame retardant and those are fumes you do not want to inhale, understand? There's no electrical power in there, anyway! It'll take a full day for the coating to dry. Just calm down and be patient!"

The Saiyan slammed a fist down on the table in frustration and a clear vase of flowers shuddered closer to the edge of the circular table. "I've been perfectly patient, damn it! You said one week!"

"One week was an estimation!" Bulma yelled, "I had to put so much time into just reprogramming the computer so you'd understand how to use it! I've spent hours reinforcing the structure of the machine, re-doing the lighting and electrical system, adding safety features, making certain you'd have a place to recover and shower in there, and all I get in return is a royal temper tantrum? Are you serious?! The least you can do is say "thank you" to me for putting my life on hold for you! Believe me, Vegeta, everybody here is more than aware that you're out of your element right now, but you cannot get nasty just because of some minor delays. You already have a fully equipped gym and outdoor track you can use to your heart's content! Calm the hell down and learn to control yourself!"

Vegeta stood up and picked up the vase, inspected its contents, and hurled it at the refrigerator. The thick glass exploded into a thousand tiny shards on impact which rained down on the tile floor. There were now-bruised flowers, glass shards, and water everywhere.

Bulma's mouth hung open in shock and felt her body shake with fear. Vegeta simply loomed over her and stared, no emotions registering across his face.

"I _am_ controlling myself. If I am delayed much longer, the next thing I break won't be a vessel for plants. Do I make myself clear?"

Before she could answer, he turned on his heel and headed outside.

* * *

><p>Bulma made certain to lock down the lab after Vegeta's episode and engage the alarm system. She had no choice but to clean up the mess after Vegeta left the kitchen and was furious at herself for just sitting there and taking his abuse.<p>

She thought about possible ways to defend herself against the Saiyan if he turned violent but knew there would be no chance of survival if he wanted to kill her. He could kill her with a single strike. At most, all she could do was hide, but he was capable of sensing her energy and was also a particularly effective stalker.

How could she deal with him? Who else had spent an extended period of time with Vegeta? The Saiyan's two comrades were dead, one for more than a year by that point, and even if they were alive she doubted they would be of any help.

As she dumped the last tiny shards of glass down the trash chute, Bulma recalled that Gohan had spent some time with Vegeta on Namek and had likely witnessed him at his most desperate and irrational. If anybody would be able to provide her with good advice on how to interact with the Saiyan, it was Goku's young son.

At four in the afternoon, after she had felt calm for at least an hour and had spotted Vegeta in the garden using a thick tree branch as a pull-up bar, she took the cordless phone from its stand and went upstairs to her bedroom to call Gohan. She turned on the shower in her en suite bathroom just in case Vegeta came upstairs- she did not want to risk him overhearing the conversation.

"Hey, Chi-Chi? It's Bulma. We're doing alright here... mostly... some guests are better behaved than others...yeah... oh, Chi-Chi, we all do! ... ... these months will fly by if we stay positive... yes... no... of course you can! Say, Chi-Chi? Could I speak to Gohan, please? I promise it won't be for very long..."

Gohan's voice came down the line: "Hi, Bulma! How's life in the big city with the Namekians and Vegeta all under the same roof?"

"The Namekians are lovely and gracious, but I did want to talk to you, Gohan... because Vegeta _flipped out _earlier today. Man, he's quick to anger, isn't he? Do you know of any way to calm him down or at least avoid him?"

Gohan's tone turned angry and he repeatedly asked Bulma if her guest had physically harmed her. It was hard to believe the child was just six years old.

"No... he just couldn't handle that the gravity simulator isn't ready yet. He broke my Mother's vase."

"He what?!"

"Yep. Threw it against the refrigerator. He wanted a reaction more than anything, I think. Oh, and before that, he was upset that I wasn't going to spend time making him some huge meal just because he asked for it. It's like he can't handle more than one disappointment in a row or something!"

"Vegeta really doesn't handle stress well. He was pretty irritable on Namek too... he seems to run on reserves half the time, really."

Bulma's eyes widened and she remembered the wicker basket on top of the refrigerator: it was where the family kept multivitamins and over the counter medicines, and she was more than certain that they had some sleep aids at her disposal.

"Gohan, you just gave me a great idea! If Vegeta's sleeping, he won't be hassling me! I'll call you back in a few hours, okay? It's time for Mister Temperamental to go down for a long nap."

"Just be careful, Bulma... he does not like being deceived."

Bulma took a teaspoon of the coffee she'd prepared for Vegeta and swirled it in her mouth before spitting it in the sink. She couldn't taste the melatonin she'd put in his decaffeinated coffee. If that didn't work, surely the ground sleeping pills in the tuna salad sandwiches she'd prepared would knock him out.

When Vegeta came back from exercising outdoors about ten minutes later, he poked his head in the kitchen and saw Bulma at the table, flipping through some sort of technical manual while drinking coffee and eating a sandwich. He cleared his throat and strode in, looking for any sign his outburst at lunchtime. The kitchen was clean and the blue-haired girl seemed normal.

"Hey," Bulma didn't look up from her book, "there's a couple sandwiches for you in the fridge and that coffee's for you," she pointed to the still-hot beverage on the counter, "I figured you'd be coming in for something to eat, so I made something in advance."

"Aha! You're wise to have taken my warning seriously. So what is this?" The Saiyan started peeling plastic wrap off his sandwich and inspected the contents.

"Tuna fish sandwich. You'll like it. Geniuses and warriors alike swear by it on this planet."

"Hmph." He ate quickly, finding the sandwich tasted pretty good (sometimes a bit gritty, but that was probably just some small bones) and drank his coffee in three gulps. Bulma set down her manual, stretched, and looked over Vegeta. He sat across from her as usual, expression neutral, leaning back slightly in his seat.

"What are you reading?"

"Oh, just the technical manual for the first generation gravity simulator. I'm just ensuring nothing's been forgotten so there's no more delays."

That crooked smile appeared on the left side of his face. "It is very good you listened to me earlier. I expect that the gravity simulator will be completed within the next four days..." he trailed off into a yawn.

_If he's really already feeling sleepy, his metabolism is more like a huge boiler room than a single furnace..._

Ten minutes passed in relative silence. Bulma read her book, waiting to see if the sleeping pills would affect Vegeta. Finally after another fifteen minutes, Vegeta yawned again, rubbed his eyes, and glanced over at Bulma suspiciously.

_Why am I so tired all of a sudden? This is strange..._

"What's up?" Bulma set her book down and looked at her guest with an expression of concern tinging her face.

Vegeta slowly stood up and shook his head. "Ugh, I feel very sleepy... like my limbs are heavy. This is not right... how are you feeling?"

"I feel fine, Vegeta. You look kind of pale," Bulma lied, "maybe you should lay down for a few minutes."

The Saiyan looked back down at Bulma and shrugged. "Maybe you're right. I'm going to sleep in my room, and you shall not disturb me unless it is to inform me that you've miraculously got the gravity simulator up and running today. Understood?"

"Of course, Vegeta. Is there anything else? Cup of tea? A nightcap maybe?" Bulma imitated Vegeta's crooked, wry smile.

"Don't..." he yawned, "don't mock me."

He went upstairs and Bulma heard his door shut softly.

"Pleasant dreams, Vegeta..." Bulma finally returned to the percolator and poured herself a second cup of caffeinated coffee.


	7. Tensions

Human Hospitality

by pureleaf

Chapter 7  
>Tensions<p>

* * *

><p>Nearly seven hours passed before Vegeta woke up, and he staggered down the stairs with his eyes barely open and parched tongue darting between dry lips. He felt awful, like his skull had been stuffed full of cotton balls. He went into the living room and found Bulma on the couch, legs crossed with a large bowl of hot popcorn nestled in the space in between. She was down to her socks, underwear and a baggy t-shirt, gaze fixed on the action movie on the television.<p>

He sat down near her and rubbed his eyes for many seconds before turning his attention to the film. In the middle of a particularly violent hand-to-hand combat sequence, Vegeta's expression soured and he glanced over at Bulma and said: "is this a comedy or some sort of satire? This guy's form is terrible. His clothing looks restrictive and he can't move properly. He's slow and unbalanced... I'd kill him in seconds!"

Bulma looked at her guest, who had changed into a black tank and black sweatpants, and chuckled at his brutal critique, half horrified and half amused by his dry delivery. "It's an action movie, Vegeta! That guy is just an actor, not a real warrior! It's all in good fun, not meant to be taken seriously. This film is called Killing Time 2. You're welcome to watch it with me if you'd like."

"Pffft," Vegeta exhaled through pressed lips, "you humans are easily impressed."

The young engineer shrugged. "Maybe... but Yamcha really wanted to see this movie before... before..." she stopped to away the tears welling in her bright eyes, "and I miss him so much..."

Vegeta ignored Bulma's silent crying. Humans seemed to be rather emotional creatures, he thought, and they're not very good at regulating their emotions or at least weeping in private.

Once Bulma seemed to have calmed down, he started looking at her again for any sign of intoxication or tiredness. Something had been _really off_ about how he'd suddenly become so tired right after eating and drinking and he_ would_ get to the bottom of it.

"Have you been up all day, or did you take a nap at some point as well?" Vegeta narrowed his large, almond-shaped eyes and spotted her glass of cola on the glass coffee table. He leaned forward and took it but did not drink.

"Hey, that's mine! I'll get you one if you want, just... wait, what? No, I didn't take a nap! I was reviewing manuals for the gravity machine, remember? You must be way overtired, buddy!"

"It is quite possible my body just wants to recover from repeated assaults on Namek and as a result I'm sleeping more than usual, however," Vegeta brought the fizzing drink to his lips and did not stop drinking until the glass was drained, "it is just _so unusual_ I woke up feeling disoriented and with a dry mouth... very similar to when I've woken up after being sedated for a medical procedure... or after being slipped drugs, for that matter."

Oh gods... he knows, thought Bulma, and now he's going to kill me!

"But since I can't be certain, I'm going to assume my body is just taking some time to recover. For now, at least."

He gently set the empty glass on the table and stood up, gave Bulma a mocking bow and headed out of the living room. He stopped in the doorway and made one final point: "perhaps I'll request a urinalysis test from your father or have him refer me to the appropriate physician. Good night!"

* * *

><p>Bulma woke early, pushed her hair under a baseball cap, grabbed a banana from the wire fruit basket on the kitchen counter and headed down to the lab to work on the gravity simulator. Vegeta's suspicious attitude the night before had left her feeling anxious and determined to stay out of the Saiyan's sight as best she could.<p>

She was happy to see that the lab had clearly been left alone and disengaged the alarms. With the protective coatings to the structure dried, she could re-install the electrical equipment and hook up the appliances.

And if Vegeta is in a decent mood, she thought, maybe I could run him through the tutorial...

* * *

><p>"Good news, son: there are no traces of sedating drugs in the urine sample you gave me. I'm thinking you're just a bit overtired from all your training, and it's best to listen to your body in this case." Dr. Briefs flipped through the results of the drug test Vegeta had demanded he provide.<p>

Vegeta let out a tiny puff of air in relief. The blue-haired girl hadn't drugged him. Maybe he really was just tired or had suffered an allergic reaction. His visit to a human physician hadn't been something he'd ever planned or wanted to do, but after much persuasion and reassurance that doctor-patient relations were strictly confidential and the promise that the Capsule Corporation's private physician would be capable of examining a Saiyan patient, Vegeta reluctantly agreed to a physical examination on the condition that the doctor did not take extensive notes, and that any notes be given directly to Vegeta afterwards.

He didn't know that Dr. Briefs had agreed to give the physician a significant bonus to examine an alien patient and not contact the press.

"Just a basic physical, understand? Any tissue samples or probing and I'm gone and so are you," he muttered as a young, wide-eyed physician with long red hair pulled into a ponytail gently pressed her latex glove-covered fingers into his jawline to check for swollen lymph nodes.

Vegeta swore he could smell fear in the physician's sweat; further confirmation in his mind that humans were uncontrollably emotional creatures.

It was discovered that Vegeta stood at five feet, three and a half inches, weighed one hundred and thirty two pounds, had a body temperature of 103.5 degrees Fahrenheit (Vegeta argued this was completely normal for Saiyans to the horrified doctor), a blood pressure reading of 125/85, a resting heartbeat of 75 BPM, had clear lungs, bright eyes and superb vision, excellent reflexes, good muscle tone and good posture. The doctor wanted to ask Vegeta about the scars covering his limbs and torso but she thought better of it.

Vegeta had strongly objected to Dr. Briefs taking a blood sample, only relenting when the scientist assured his guest the sample would only be used to further confirm the overall state of the Saiyan's health and to potentially create an artificial blood for the alien should he ever need a transfusion.

"Hmmph, that is good to know. Tell me, do you think your daughter will be able to have the gravity simulator up and running within the next few days, or has she just been lying to me this whole time?"

Dr. Briefs sighed and patted Vegeta on the shoulder, who recoiled and barely suppressed a scowl. "Son, the best thing you can do is let her work in peace. Bulma wouldn't tell you she was almost finished if she really wasn't."

"Hmmph. I'm bored with your fitness facilities."

This guy needs constant stimulation, thought Dr. Briefs, and apparently craves novelty, too.

"Do you want a tour of the city? I could take you for a ride in the car."

Vegeta shrugged. "Fine. But I suppose these clothes won't be appropriate..." looking down at his running shoes and drawstring shorts.

* * *

><p>Now outfitted with human undergarments, which turned out to be rather comfortable all things considered, Vegeta was willing to wear the blue denim jeans Bulma had purchased for him without his knowledge.<p>

He'd been surprised when she'd knocked on his door one evening and presented him with a large red paper bag filled with two pair of denim jeans in blue and in black, along with a few casual t-shirts and even slightly more formal button-up shirt. It had been the last thing he expected from his hosts after they'd already provided him with basic clothing for training, and while he only tersely thanked Bulma for the clothing before telling her to leave so he could sleep, part of him was moved by the generosity of the humans that had taken him in.

With his dresser drawers filling up, Vegeta felt himself actually enjoying the opportunity to dress for pleasure, and he decided that blue jeans, a black t-shirt, and his sandals would pass for a casual outfit. As he left his bedroom, Bulma was coming up the stairs and hummed with approval at Vegeta's outfit.

"Look at you! You know, you're actually kind of sexy, Vegeta, especially now that you've put on a little weight since you got here. I love a man who can fill out a t-shirt like that!"

"Tch! Mind your tongue, you vulgar girl! And where have you been all morning?" Vegeta could feel his face getting red, embarrassed by Bulma's comments.

"Just working on your damn simulator, your highness! I'm gonna go shower before I grab some lunch. So, where are you off to, dressed like that?"

"Your father offered to take me on a guided tour of the city. I need a change of scenery now, anyway."

"Don't be surprised if he offers to take you somewhere to eat. There's a lot of great restaurants in West City to choose from! Who knows, you might even get some phone numbers when you go out!"

"I do not understand what you mean by 'some phone numbers'. Explain now."

"What I mean is that you might attract some female attention! Geez, Vegeta, haven't you ever been on a date or anything? Yeesh. You need to have some fun for a change!"

With that, Bulma started to saunter towards her bedroom door when Vegeta told her to stop for a moment, and without turning to face her, he said: "by the way, the drug screen came back negative, and I should think that is a good thing for the both of us, you silly, vulgar girl. Furthermore, my sex life is none of your concern. Good bye."

**To Be Continued**


	8. It Finally Works!

Human Hospitality

by pureleaf

Chapter 8

It Finally Works!

* * *

><p>The open-top car sped down the coastal highway with Vegeta in the passenger seat, who was secretly enjoying the smell of ocean air and the way the wind whipped through his hair. Dr. Briefs talked constantly but never seemed to notice if Vegeta was really listening to him. He explained the purpose of certain buildings and the history behind different neighbourhoods in West City.<p>

From what Vegeta could gather based on his observations and when he (reluctantly) listened to his guide, West City was a large and wealthy city and had been founded at least two centuries prior. Capsule Corporation also seemed to be one of the largest industries operating within the city, although it appeared as though many different companies had their headquarters or major factories in West City. There were glittering glass skyscrapers, massive shopping malls, apartment complexes, well-maintained public parks, schools, a university, train stations and even a major airport on the very outskirts of the city.

Finally, Dr. Briefs took an exit that brought them into West City's core and into a street filled with different restaurants.

"Oh no," Vegeta warily eyed his driver, "take me elsewhere or take me home, now."

"Alright... say, have you ever had a hamburger, Vegeta?"

"No."

They wound up going through something called a "drive-through" for cheeseburgers, French fries, onion rings, baked apple pies, and very large soft drinks served in waxed paper cups with the ugliest neon red and purple geometric design Vegeta had ever laid eyes on.

"My wife doesn't like it when I eat this kind of stuff, so we'll have to find a place to eat..."

"Fine."

"You're not much of a talker, are you?"

The Saiyan sighed and resumed looking out the window.

Dr. Briefs took his guest to a rest area overlooking the ocean. The Saiyan found he was actually glad to be seaside again, ignored Dr. Briefs as he pointed to a picnic table, and chose to sit at the top of the sloping hill leading down to a small public beach instead. Dr. Briefs joined him without asking. He ate quickly and said nothing to Dr. Briefs, who told Vegeta about his doctoral thesis in between small bites of his hamburger.

"You said your wife didn't like you eating this food. Why?"

Train of thought derailed by Vegeta's sudden questioning, Dr. Briefs choked on his root beer and coughed before he was able to provide an answer. "Just trying to watch the waistline, son, now that my metabolism isn't so fast any more!"

"So... this type of food makes you fat?" Vegeta asked through a mouthful of onion rings.

"If you eat too much, it can..."

The Saiyan shrugged, muttered something about "not liking fat humans very much", and returned his attention to his onion rings. After a few minutes, he crushed the empty, grease-stained paper bag they'd come in and incinerated it with a minute blast of ki. He stood up in the grass, rolled his shoulders back, and inhaled with his lips parted so he could taste the salty sea air. He made a mental note to make Bulma take him to the beach on a very hot day.

"Take me home, now."

"Care to take the scenic route?"

Another shrug from the Saiyan. He didn't really care- it was just something to do.

* * *

><p>Vegeta was horrified to discover Bulma had invited a group of girlfriends to the compound when he and Dr. Briefs returned in the late afternoon. She said they were friends from her university days and they'd come over to catch up and engage in an activity she called "pre-drinking".<p>

"What the hell is pre-drinking?" Vegeta went into the kitchen to get a snack and found Bulma and her girlfriends were seated around the breakfast table with several brightly coloured drinks and snacks on hand.

"It's when you get buzzed before going out so you don't spend too much money at the bars!" A tall, curvaceous brunette leaned back in her seat at the kitchen table and smiled at Vegeta.

"Hmm! I can't criticize frugality."

"You wanna come with, cutie?"

"No."

Several of the women giggled at his curt reply. "Oh, come on! Don't be so serious, mystery man! Are you Bulma's new boyfriend?" Another woman asked him, winking at the suggestion that he was romantically involved with Bulma.

"No!"

More giggling. Vegeta could feel his blood pressure steadily rising and he tried to focus his attention on the refrigerator. He just wanted to get a snack, something to drink, and then he wanted to disappear.

"His name is Vegeta and he's been working with my Dad on a project. One of the new engineers at Capsule Corporation, you know?" Bulma lied.

A chorus of "ooohs" rose from the table. Vegeta was impressed by Bulma's ability to create a back story for him on the spot.

"So you're too busy to come out with us, huh? Don't get too caught up in your work, good lookin'!"

The Saiyan's teeth were practically on edge. He found an unopened package of cold cuts and a large can of iced tea and took them both up to his room.

He deigned to stay up there until they left. With a slice of roast turkey rolled up and held between his teeth, Vegeta picked up the remote control to the television in his room and soon figured out that the red button at the top of the remote was the ON button.

Sometime in the later evening, Vegeta heard the women laughing and giggling again. Based on their volume, he guessed correctly that they were in Bulma's bedroom across the hallway and knew to leave.

He crept down to the living room in an attempt to escape the noise. He was becoming quite fascinated by human television and wanted to continue watching a program where a blonde man dressed in white screamed at a group of harried-looking cooks competing to make the best dish for some sort of monetary prize.

Not ten minutes after finding the cooking show again, the group of women came down the stairs, louder than before. They were _definitely_ buzzed, he thought. Vegeta was preparing to fire off his best insults at them when he caught sight of Bulma, now dressed up to go out for the evening, and his mouth just hung open.

"How do I look?" She asked him.

She was dressed in a formfitting sleeveless red dress that showed off her figure and knee high boots with four inch heels. Gold and silver bangles jingled on her slender wrists and large rhinestone hoops sparkled in the warm light of the living room. She'd painted her nails and lips red and her cheekbones suddenly appeared more defined.

His heart was pounding and it took all his strength to keep his thoughts from turning to sex.

"Uhh... I, uh... you look fine."

"We're all going out now and I won't be home until late, but I'll have something great to show you tomorrow afternoon, alright?" She leaned over the couch and he caught a glimpse of her ample cleavage.

The scent of her perfume reached him. She smelled sweet and spicy, and then an underlying musk revealed itself and suddenly his face felt very hot.

"Good. Now get out of here!"

* * *

><p>He spent much of the evening watching television with Mrs. Briefs after she offered to prepare him something called "club sandwiches" and returned with a literal stack of sandwiches (which he enjoyed very much) and a ramekin of potato salad. They watched a program called "The Twilight Zone", which Vegeta found quite fascinating, followed by the late night news, which Vegeta found incredibly dull.<p>

At one in the morning, he retired to his bedroom. By two thirty in the morning he lay in bed, unable to fall asleep. Insomnia was most unusual for the Saiyan, who typically fell asleep within a few minutes most nights after years of willing himself to sleep while stuck on Frieza's ships or during shore leave. Worse yet, he didn't know of any human remedies for insomnia.

The only two remedies Vegeta knew of were alcohol and sex. He didn't know where the humans kept their liquor (if they even had any, he'd only ever had human beer) and he didn't have a willing sexual partner.

He stared up at the ceiling and sighed.

With the duvet pushed down to the foot-board and the sheet already down at his hips, the Saiyan pulled off his shirt and lay back down, tossing over on his mattress in hopes he'd find a comfortable position. After a few minutes, he was on his back like usual.

It wasn't the temperature of the room that was bothering him, he realized. He felt quite normal and couldn't sense any danger or unusual energies nearby. His stomach was full and he hadn't been drinking. In his mind, there was no reason he should still be awake.

His mind turned to Bulma. He started thinking about how she looked in that short, tight dress and high heeled boots. The way she smelled; that spicy, musky perfume that came from that spot between her full breasts. Her creamy skin and bright blue eyes. Those bare shoulders he'd seen at the beginning of his time on earth.

She said I was sexy, he thought, but was she just toying with me?

Maybe she's promiscuous...

His right hand drifted down under the sheet and towards the waistband of his boxers.

Don't you ever date? She'd asked him.

It had been more than three years since he'd last had sex and his body was screaming for release. His last sexual encounter had been brief, rather uncomfortable, in less than ideal conditions, with a partner for whom he had no feelings of affection, and done purely to satisfy a physical need rather than for enjoyment. He already had an erection and knew he couldn't ignore it like he'd done so many times before.

He started to imagine what she looked like undressed. He'd wanted to tear that dress right off her.

He pushed the sheet and his boxers down to his ankles and finally touched himself for the first time in years. Ten minutes later, with soiled boxers discarded on the floor and the sheets and duvet pulled up to his chest, Vegeta fell asleep and did not wake up until eleven o'clock.

* * *

><p>Vegeta woke with a start when a small animal with pointed ears and glossy black fur jumped on his bed, mere inches from his face, and began sniffing him curiously. A cold, wet nose practically buried itself into his hairline. Its eyes were wide and bright green, practically glowing as they stared at Vegeta. Long whiskers brushed against the Saiyan's cheek as the creature leaned in closer to sniff his face again. He was totally taken aback by the animal's apparent friendliness.<p>

"And just what the hell are you?"

The creature yawned, revealing tiny sharp teeth and powerful incisors. Vegeta smiled and held out a hand. A rough pink tongue darted out of a tiny mouth and licked his fingertips.

"I bet you're a carnivore."

"MmmmrrrrooooooOOOWwww..."

The Saiyan's eyes widened at the animal's high pitched call. Still, he recognized the creature was likely some sort of pet and therefore tame. He let it hop around on his bed and was quite amused when it attacked his wiggling feet and tried to bite his toes through the covers.

He noticed his bedroom door had been opened slightly, but a quick check around his room confirmed nothing had been touched while he'd been asleep. He decided to shower and finally made his way downstairs just as Bulma was preparing to make herself lunch. She was dressed in black sweatpants and a pink tank top, with her hair loose and face free of any cosmetics.

Even dressed like that, she's gorgeous, thought Vegeta.

"Hey there! I've never seen you sleep in before," Bulma gave her guest a nod as he came wandering into the kitchen, smelling like he'd just showered.

"Mmmrrooowwww..."

"This creature keeps following me." Vegeta looked down at the cat as it wound in between his legs and butted its furry head against his calves.

"That's Scratch and he's a house cat. He usually hangs around with my Dad. C'mere," Bulma bent down to pick the cat up, "did you finally say hello to our guest, Scratch? Hmm? You wanna hold him, Vegeta? I think he likes you!"

"I'm hungry."

"I'll take that as a firm no, then. You want some lunch?" She set Scratch down and he darted out of the kitchen, probably headed towards the lab or to find some sunny spot to sleep in.

He took a seat at the breakfast table. "The sandwiches your mother made last night were very good... whatever they were."

"Club sandwiches it is, then..."

Bulma put together several sandwiches and brewed some coffee for her and Vegeta. They ate in silence until Vegeta had eaten two sandwiches and the rumbling in his stomach had been silenced.

"Are your friends still here?"

"Nope. Two of them crashed here when we got in at three, but they both left early this morning when you were still sleeping. Now that my hangover's finally going away..."

Vegeta let his crooked smile spread across his face. "They were loud women. It's no wonder you have a headache."

"We were even louder once we hit the clubs and my hangover is from drinking way too much champagne and hard liquor! It was probably the tequila shots that did me in!"

Vegeta exhaled sharply through his nose.

"My friends think you're cute, Vegeta. You should let loose and come with us sometime."

The Saiyan did not reply but instead focused on his coffee. Memories of her perfume, the jingling bangles, and _that dress_ came rushing back. An entire night of her dressed like that would have driven him wild.

Finally: "I think not. So, what did you have to tell me today?"

"Oh yeah! Well, Vegeta, your gravity simulator is mere hours away from being ready for use! All we have to do is go through a tutorial, ensure the simulator works properly with some quick tests, and then we're going to move it outside so you can train in complete privacy."

He swallowed a large mouthful of club sandwich, brows raised, and looked at her quite skeptically. "It finally works?"

"It finally works!"

"Finally!"

**To Be Continued**


	9. The Daily Routine

Human Hospitality

by pureleaf

Chapter 9

The Daily Routine

Author's Note: Thanks for your reviews! I'm sorry this update has taken so long. Well, this little fic of mine is shaping up to be a bit of a "Vegeta and Bulma" story! From here on the plot will start to move faster, so thanks for hanging on this long. I hope to update again soon and always appreciate your reviews and comments!

* * *

><p>So excited at the prospect of finally using a working gravity simulator, Vegeta quietly sat through Bulma's tutorial and found she'd programmed the machine's controls in an easy-to-identify, colourful display. While Vegeta's ego felt wounded by the idea that Bulma possibly considered him to be some kind of idiot, the thrill of being able to train like his rival suppressed any anger that may have otherwise risen to the surface minutes into the tutorial.<p>

He was even willing to take her advice and started his training at five times Earth's gravity. After an hour of rigorous exercise, his muscles were burning from exertion, and it felt _good. _

Within four days, Vegeta was training at 15-25 times Earth's normal gravity on a consistent basis.

Vegeta had what he considered a proper schedule set in place by the beginning of his third full week on Earth. He discovered the early morning hours were blissfully quiet and chose to take advantage of any opportunity when he wouldn't have to talk to people.

He wrote down his daily schedule in Galactic Standard and tacked it to the wall above his barely-used desk.

**0515- Wake, dress**

**0525- Get breakfast from refrigerator**

**0545- Run 45 minutes**

**0635- Gym: Weight training**

**0745- Get second breakfast**

**0820- Gravity Simulator: 10-15x setting, stretching and movement routine**

**0900- Gravity Simulator: 20-30x setting, hand weights and body weight exercises**

**0940- Leave Simulator, get something to eat**

**1000- Return to Simulator. 20-40x setting, combat exercises and kata**

**1130- Leave Simulator, go to house (Note to self do NOT use shower in simulator it is inefficient and not warm enough Note to self Tell Bulma or her father to fix the damn water heater in simulator)**

**1135- Shower**

**1200- Midday meal**

**1300- Movement and stretching routine- normal gravity setting if in simulator**

**1400- Sleep**

**1600- Wake, eat something.**

**1615- Return to gravity simulator: 10-20x setting, flight and levitation training**

**1730- Leave simulator. Bathe.**

**1800- Evening meal**

**1900- Free hour.**

**2000- Watch TV or go for walk**

**2130- Eat something. Go to room.**

**2230- Sleep**

The gravity simulator had been intentionally placed as far away from the Namekians as possible so to prevent conflict. Vegeta liked it that way and he was more than certain the Namekians didn't object either. Occasionally he passed by some of them as they toured the gardens with Mrs. Briefs or in small groups on their own, and it always created a moment of deep tension. While Vegeta's chip couldn't decipher what the Namekians said about him in their native tongue, he knew it just had to along the lines of "sick bastard", "murderer", and "should be in Hell".

"Keep away from him, young one," an elder Namekian said to one of the youngest as they passed Vegeta as he jogged around the compound one evening, deliberately speaking in the common tongue to make sure Vegeta understood the warning too, "there is nothing good to be found in him."

It stung him more than it should have, and if it weren't for Mrs. Briefs being no more than eight meters away, he may have attacked.

By the end of the month, the Saiyan's food intake increased to the point that Mrs. Briefs hired two chefs (who worked alternate days) to keep up. Vegeta regularly terrified the chefs by coming into the kitchen just as they were putting the finishing touches on a dish and taking a seat at (or sometimes _on_) the table. He rarely, if ever, thanked the cooks, figuring they were paid labour and therefore their salaries counted as a sufficient "thank you". The grocery bill skyrocketed, not that Vegeta particularly cared. He'd grown especially fond of salmon teriyaki served with sticky rice, hummus with pita, Pad Thai with shrimp and chicken, tortilla chips with salsa, fruit salad, pomegranate arils, roast chicken with gravy and vegetables, steak and pommes frites, Caesar salad, oranges, and Mrs. Briefs' club sandwiches, which he requested she prepare for him at least twice weekly.

While Vegeta had learned how to use human utensils (they really weren't all that different from anything he'd seen before) he still tended to eat certain things using his right hand, partially because it felt natural but also because it bothered Bulma, and he found her indignant reactions made for good dinnertime entertainment, especially when he was in one of his _off_ moods.

He still wasn't fond of scrambled eggs, although he found them quite good when fried in butter and served with steak sauce. The discovery that eggs were present in many foods he consumed on a regular basis made Vegeta less suspicious of them and more willing to try different things. All things considered, Vegeta thought the food on Earth was excellent, but he only told the Briefs that the food was "satisfactory" most of the time. The only foods Vegeta found truly loathsome were marshmallows, zucchini, tomato ketchup, and oatmeal, which somewhat reminded him of the gruel served to PTO soldiers stationed in the most inhospitable areas of the empire.

One morning, the Saiyan discovered that only Bulma was at the house that day, and the cook had a day off, so he'd need her to cook for him. He wandered from the gym into the kitchen and found her at the breakfast table, focused on her tablet as usual.

"Hey," she looked up from her tablet as he entered the kitchen, "have you put on some weight?"

"Maybe," Vegeta discovered the percolator had switched to its keep warm setting and poured himself a cup of coffee, "it's possible."

"You look great, Vegeta."

He felt his face getting hot again. Something was baking in the oven, and he motioned towards it with his large eyes and tilted his chin up, silently asking his hostess what she was making. Vegeta was frustrated that many of his non-verbal cues or tongue clicks were ignored or only received a confused response from the humans, forcing him to speak all the time.

"Fritatta. You'll like it. Care to get me a cup of coffee too, handsome?"

He got a mug from the cupboard and poured her a cup of coffee. Vegeta also knew she took cream and a small amount of sugar and took the liberty of adding it in for her before he set both mugs on the table and took his usual spot across from her.

"Wow, I didn't actually think you'd actually do that! Thanks, Vegeta."

"Yeah, yeah," he focused on his coffee and took a long sip, "enough."

She laughed and went back to reading her tablet until the oven timer beeped and she removed the frittata from the oven, sprinkled grated cheese on top, and returned it to the oven to continue cooking for another few minutes.

"Damn it all, I'm hungry! How long is that fritta-thing going to take, Bulma?"

"Another three minutes... besides, didn't you eat just two hours ago? I'm starting to think you can pack away even more than Goku!"

Vegeta smirked at Bulma's comparison and leaned back in his chair, studying her expressive face and briefly wondering if he should start committing her features to his memory before he scolded himself for daring to be so soft, if even for a few seconds.

The oven beeped and he did not move. He would be served, after all.

After sniffing the dish presented to him and an initial taste test, the Saiyan finished his slice of frittata in three huge, greedy bites, pushed his plate away, rose from his chair and brought the entire pan over (once he realized he needed to wrap the hot handle with a tea towel in order to hold it) and quickly ate the remainder. "Tell the cooks I want this for my second breakfast every day. Whatever you put in this, it is quite good. I must train. Goodbye."

"So the prince of all Saiyans wants leftover dinner, cheese and eggs... at least he'll eat close to anything," said Bulma to an empty kitchen.

* * *

><p>After ten weeks on Earth, with seven of them spent training in the gravity simulator for several hours on a near-daily basis, Vegeta actually felt remarkably comfortable in his environment. He slept well and ate constantly, enjoyed his privacy, took long showers and groomed himself regularly.<p>

Late one evening, Bulma came to his room to deliver laundry. The Saiyan was cross-legged on the floor, back against the side of his bed, cleaning his toenails with a wooden cuticle pusher.

"I swear, if you aren't training or stuffing your face, you're devoted to your hygiene. Are you trying to impress a lady friend I don't know about or something?" Bulma laughed and set his clean clothing on top of his dresser, knowing her guest preferred to sort his own laundry.

"I like to look good."

Bulma chuckled. "I can see that, Vegeta. Anyway, that's all. I'll see you in the mor-"

"You can stay. A little company wouldn't be so awful right now," he didn't look up from his feet, but his tone was sincere.

She smiled at his offer. "Sure. I was going to make some nighttime tea, so do you want a cup too? It'll only take me a few minutes. Think of it as time to finish up with your feet, because I'm not going to try and have a conversation with a guy giving himself a pedicure!"

He let out a low, soft laugh and agreed to her conditions.

When she came back with two steaming mugs of tea, placed them on his night table, and took a seat on top of his bed, Vegeta sat right beside her. Bulma hadn't been expecting _that_ at all but managed to keep her composure.

Close-up, Bulma realized that Vegeta really was _quite_ attractive, and his unusual features added a deep element of mystery to an already enigmatic individual. He really did devote time to keeping himself clean and it showed in his complexion. On top of that, he also smelled nice; a combination of soap and lotion, clean clothing, and very faintly of the rubbing alcohol swabs he used to wipe his nails after picking away any dirt that had found its way underneath.

The Saiyan didn't talk much about himself or his past, and when he did, it came in anecdotes or fragments of a larger story he would always refuse to tell. That evening, he was a little more open with Bulma and told her that he'd worked with Raditz for close to twenty five years before he'd been killed in combat on Earth.

"He was a real creep," Bulma shivered, "you have to be really sick to kidnap and hurt a little kid!"

Vegeta shrugged. "Comes with the line of work we were both in. Raditz was a cunning bastard, I'll give him that much, but his death was no true loss for me."

Bulma's brows rose in surprise at Vegeta's coldness. "Even after more than two decades with him? Weren't you friends or at least on good terms?"

"Hmmph. It was work. I suppose you could say we were friendly at times, but that was only for brief periods. We were never friends. I didn't make friends. Too risky."

"Oh... what about the big guy you came with?"

"Nappa was my body guard. He was appointed by my father when I was four and remained my guard out of misplaced loyalty to my father, I am sure. Ah, but it was good to have two men to test my food and drink for drugs or poison."

"You seriously faced attempts on your life?"

"A few times. Been drugged a few times, stabbed three times, shot twice, and nearly scalded once."

Bulma looked away, eyes wide with horror, and took a long sip of tea. Vegeta understood it was a silent cue to change the subject.

Between sips of tea, Vegeta asked Bulma about her education and her age and was surprised (and pleased) to learn they'd both been born within five years of each other. She held several degrees and was planning to continue her studies, which rather impressed Vegeta. Clearly, the woman was much more intelligent than her loud personality let on.

Bulma opened her tablet and flipped to a blueprint and skeletal manual for one of her latest projects. "Check this out, Vegeta," she zoomed in on a computer-generated rendering of the completed device, "this is a defence drone I'm working on right now. It can be used as a sort of robot sparring partner or even as a simulated enemy during combat training. I originally got the idea during my college years when I spent a semester in a dorm infested with big, hairy flies,_ eeeeuuughh_... long story short, the idea back then was to have the drone identify the flies as they approached and suck them into a container once they were within range. It hovered around the dorm for a few hours a day and it worked pretty well all things considered, although sometimes it sucked up somebody's hair or something..."

"Short story long..." Vegeta waved his hand from side to side and clicked his tongue in annoyance.

"I'm getting to it! Anyway, a few weeks ago I revisited the old blueprints and found some notes about turning them into defensive drones for Goku to train with!"

"That's it! No wonder Kakkarot became such a brilliant fighter! You humans have been presenting him with a simulated enemy to constantly battle..."

"Hold up, Vegeta! I had completely forgotten about those notes and never made the drones for Goku to train with! The reason I'm telling you this is because I've made the first generation of defence drones for you to use in the gravity simulator. There'll be some minor adjustments to make in the morning, and I'll need you to spend some time with me customizing the programs I've created, but they'll be ready for use by tomorrow evening."

The Saiyan's face brightened and a smile appeared, less crooked than the usual smirk he flashed on a regular basis, truly delighted by this news. He now had a true advantage over Kakkarot and would train harder than ever before.

"This is very good news. I thank you for telling me, Bulma, and I am willing to meet with you tomorrow after my midday meal."

"Then it's agreed, Vegeta. I know you don't like being thrown off schedule, so I appreciate you doing this on short notice."

"I am looking forward to having such an advantage over Kakkarot now. It is you who is doing me the greater favour here."

"It won't be much longer until we can use the Namekian Dragonballs. I wonder what Yamcha will be like when he returns..." Bulma dissolved into a sigh.

"You are very attractive." Vegeta wanted to slap himself the moment he blurted it out. _Why did I say that?!_ He chastised himself and the worry that she wouldn't want to deal with him the next day started to creep into every racing thought he had.

"Oh... um, thanks, Vegeta. But Yamcha's my boyfriend, and I'm gonna wait for him to get back, you know? He was my first boyfriend and we've been together a long time..."

"Of course I know that! I've had enough company for the night, if you should like to leave now. Good night."

He rose from the bed much faster than she did and showed her out of his bedroom before shutting the door firmly and turning the lock. She was in such a rush to leave and she forgot her mug of tea on his night table.

Very quickly Vegeta undressed, turned off all the lights, and curled up underneath the covers. He could smell her on the duvet where she'd sat and pushed it onto the floor so he wouldn't have to think about her as he fell asleep.

Bulma went to her room, stunned by what had just happened, and sat at her desk to write in her journal.

_10:15 PM_

_Vegeta just admitted he's attracted to me. I really have no idea how to approach this, especially with Yamcha bound to return to Earth in a few weeks. Hopefully he'll be in a decent mood tomorrow. _

**To Be Continued **


	10. Mood Swings

Human Hospitality  
>by pureleaf<p>

Chapter 10  
>Mood Swings<p>

Author's Note: Wowza, thanks to all the new followers! I love reading your comments and reviews.

* * *

><p>When it came to the two hired chefs at the Capsule Corp's living quarters, Vegeta found he immediately hated the one called "Tyler", and when Vegeta discovered that his mere presence made the pudgy man develop a hunched posture, an uncontrollable stutter, and the inability to even make eye contact with the Saiyan during their brief interactions, he decided that it would make for good sport and routinely terrified the chef.<p>

Vegeta had woken up in a bad mood after his awkward interaction with Bulma the night before, and his mood grew darker throughout the morning as he worked through what he personally considered to be poor training. Training at levels almost up to 100 times Earth's normal gravity wasn't enough to satisfy him, and failing to properly land a backflip twice in one hour while at ninety times Earth's normal gravity only made him angrier. The second fall was the hardest; he crashed to the floor lower back first and the stub of his tail throbbed angrily as he picked himself back up, seething in frustration.

Still, Vegeta broke from his schedule at eleven o'clock, went inside to take a shower, changed into fresh clothing, and went downstairs to toy with the chef and get his lunch.

"Hello, Tyler," Vegeta slinked into the kitchen and started rifling through the refrigerator for something to drink, barefoot and hair still damp enough that it was slightly relaxed and hung down his neck, "I'm really damn hungry and in a very shitty mood, so you better be fixing something good."

"Uuuuh, h-h-hello, S-s-s-s-" the chef caught a glimpse of the increasingly muscular man with the mercurial temper before he was too close for comfort, "Sir... today's lunch i-i-ss br-braisedrabbitwithpolenta a-a-a-nnnd spinach salad."

"Fine. I wish to eat outdoors. Take the food out there."

"Eh-heh heh, all right... t-t-take a seat, it'll be right out..."

The Saiyan went outside with two bottles of mineral water tucked under one arm and took a seat at a wrought iron patio table on the patio. At least the sun is warm today, seeing this planet isn't always hot enough for real comfort, thought Vegeta. When the food arrived two minutes later, served in the largest bowls the chef could find, Vegeta sniffed the braised rabbit before deciding that it looked decent. He picked up a leg of rabbit and began to eat, his back totally turned to the chef.

"D-d-do you like it, Ss-Sir?"

"Yeah, yeah. It's fine. Will you piss off already?" Vegeta dismissed the chef with the wave of a hand.

"Prick..." Tyler muttered to himself and he turned around to go inside when the Saiyan pushed himself out of his chair, stepped back two paces and performed another back flip, this one high and strong enough that he effortlessly cleared the chef's balding head and landed softly on his feet, less than thirty centimeters away from the horrified man.

"What did you call me? Come on," Vegeta picked the chubby cook up by the front of his white chef's jacket and pinned him against the doorway leading into the living room, "be a man and insult me to my face! What did you call me, fatass? Tell me again!"

"P-p-please! Stop!" The chef's pasty round face turned red and sweat beaded on his forehead. He could barely breathe as the powerful man started to hold him midair by his shirt collar, feet dangling two inches off the ground.

"Oh my god! Vegeta, stop! Let him go! Let go now!" Bulma raced across the yard, having spotted the argument from one of the smaller greenhouses. She bounded up the steps onto the patio and tried to separate the two men before the argument turned violent.

"This stuttering coward can't even talk shit to my face!" The Saiyan barely acknowledged Bulma and he pushed the man against the door frame with even greater force. "C'mon, you still want to talk?"

"Vegeta! Stop now!" Bulma grabbed Vegeta's left arm and tried to force it down. It was no use with the Saiyan's incredible strength, but after another five tense seconds, he lowered the chef to the ground and let go.

Tyler the chef looked at both of them in utter disbelief as he tried to catch his breath, heart pounding up into his throat. "T-t-that's it! This guy is a f-f-fucking psycho! I quit! I'd rather work as a line cook than deal with this crap!" He stormed into the kitchen, tearing off his chef's jacket to reveal a sweat-drenched t-shirt underneath, and started to pack his materials.

"Wait!" Bulma ran in after him, hoping there would be some way to make him reconsider his decision.

Outside, Vegeta had returned to his meal like nothing happened. He broke the tiny rabbit bones and sucked away at the miniscule amount of marrow before chucking them into the garden.

Tyler the chef could not be convinced to stay at Capsule Corp. He complained that Vegeta routinely insulted him (yet almost always commented that the food was "decent") and intimidated him. The violent incident had been enough for Tyler, and in the end he agreed to sign a non-disclosure agreement and would not press charges in exchange for a generous settlement and referral to a five star restaurant in West City.

Bulma was infuriated at Vegeta, but she also knew that confronting him would be a poor decision when he was already angry. Feeling rather helpless by the time Tyler had left, she poured a mug of coffee and went to the lab to take a few quiet moments for herself before Vegeta came by for the tutorial.

* * *

><p>The Saiyan's mood had levelled somewhat as he took twenty minutes to lay on the grass after he'd eaten, basking under the high sun and finding some pleasure in how hot his hair felt.<p>

He went to the lab and found Bulma had taken the drones out for a test flight. Four metal spheres whizzed over his head and began to circle him. Circular lights located in the center of each drone flashed green. Vegeta was impressed by their speed and the smirk appeared on his face when one sent a strong blast of cold air that hit his hand when he reached out to swat it.

"Glad you came by, Vegeta. The only way to shut off the drone is to tap the button in the center, and if you aren't fast enough..."

"What, I'll be blasted by air cannons? I'm shaking in my boots already."

Bulma mimicked Vegeta's smirk and folded her arms across her chest. "No, Vegeta. You'll be hit by a blast of energy. The drone is set on "safety" right now."

Vegeta's brows rose in surprise and he took a seat beside the young engineer. "Bulma, you have my full attention."

The drones proved easy to use, but difficult to shut off. Bulma led Vegeta through a tutorial and explained she'd programmed the drones to work at increasingly difficult (and painful) levels. Level zero would only produce blasts of cold air, levels one through three produced increasingly severe shocks, level four produced a laser that could potentially result in minor burns, and level five produced a full-on blast of energy that could leave exposed skin with second degree burns. With each level, the drones moved faster and more aggressively. She'd also programmed the drones so Vegeta could battle against one to six opponents at once.

"This is brilliant..." Vegeta managed to shut off one of the drones when he tapped the center button. Its tiny cannons retreated, the green light turned blue, and it flew back to its charging station at the end of the lab. "You're a goddamn genius, Bulma."

"Of course I'm a genius! It's about time you acknowledged that, too! You need to be very careful when using these, do you understand?"

"Yeah..." the Saiyan watched in amazement as the drone docked in its charging station and shut off. Looks like there are a few highly intelligent humans on this backwater planet, he thought.

"Vegeta, I'm not joking around here! You could be seriously injured if you try to take on more than you can handle. Just... look... start at level one or two, set the gravity simulator to an intensity you find comfortable, and see if you can shut off the drones in under a minute before you program the drones to blast you. Unlike you, those drones aren't going to slow down when the gravity increases."

"Do you really doubt me?" Vegeta looked at Bulma, eyes narrowing.

"Not at all. Please just be careful, alright? I don't want you to wind up in the hospital!"

"Oh, shut up..." Vegeta felt his face growing hot again, "I won't be hospitalized."

* * *

><p>At five thirty, Vegeta left the simulator sporting more than a dozen dime-sized minor burns to his forearms, neck, and calves, and stomach. He'd had another fall, this time rolling his left ankle. He felt overheated, hungry, and his head hurt. He limped into the house and up the stairs to his bedroom, locked the door, and drew a cool bath. He'd have to take the rest of the day off and let his body recover, he realized, letting himself sink into the water until it had reached his chin.<p>

He changed into clean track pants, undershirt, and fleece-lined hooded sweatshirt, but opted not to wear any shoes or socks. The floors at the Briefs Compound were always clean, Vegeta reasoned, so there was no way he'd further injure his feet or ankles.

Mrs. Briefs was the first to comment on Vegeta's state when he hobbled into the kitchen and dropped into his seat at the table.

"You're hurt! Oh, honey," she pulled out an extra chair and placed it two feet away to his left side, "did you twist your ankle? You ought to keep it elevated. Here," she assisted him in putting his leg up on the chair even though he didn't really need any help, "stay like that and I'll get an ice-pack for you."

"Hello, Vegeta. Intense day of training?" Dr. Briefs took his seat at the head of the table and acknowledged Vegeta's injury with a short nod.

"Intense day period."

"Ah, well, you should take a day off to rest that ankle, son."

"Nnh." Vegeta rolled his eyes and hissed in surprise as Mrs. Briefs laid an ice-pack wrapped in a clean tea towel over his ankle.

"So... I hear you and one of the chefs didn't get along very well today. Bulma told me he has chosen to accept a position at The Black Piano instead." Dr. Briefs looked at Vegeta with one brow slightly cocked, doubting Bulma had told him the truth behind Tyler the chef's departure.

"Good. I hated him. Where's dinner?"

"On its way, Vegeta. We're having Lebanese tonight. In the meantime, what can I get you to drink?" Mrs. Briefs moved back and forth between the kitchen and dining room, setting out glasses and utensils.

The Saiyan shrugged. He didn't care as long as his hunger would be sated and his thirst quenched.

"Where's Bulma?" Vegeta finally asked once the food had arrived. He was pleased to see Mrs. Briefs had ordered extra pita and toum for him to enjoy.

"She went out," explained Mrs. Briefs, "said she wanted an evening to herself."

Vegeta smirked. "I used to take evenings to myself when I was younger, whenever I was on leave... not that I remember most of them."

"Oh, dear," muttered Mrs. Briefs.

"Hah! So the "college years" really are universal! Good for you, son! And here I was starting to think you were completely incapable of letting loose and having fun!"

"You have _no_ idea..." Vegeta retorted through a mouthful of shish taouk.

* * *

><p>Unable to train after dinner, Vegeta took to the living room couch (nobody complained when he lay across it, in fact, Mrs. Briefs made him lift his left foot so she could prop it up with two small cushions) and found himself slipping into a frantic internal dialogue. How long would this injury sideline him? How much longer until the Namekians used their Dragonballs and Kakkarot returned? He completely ignored Doctor and Mrs. Briefs, so deep in his thoughts that he only heard Mrs. Briefs asking if he was alright when she gently tapped his shoulder.<p>

"Yes! I'm fine!"

"Say... what kind of music do you like, Vegeta?" Dr. Briefs moved to his stereo system and began to search through his collection of vinyl records.

Vegeta pulled himself up into a seated position. "What? I don't know. Never considered it before."

"Never considered music, eh... alright. Then we should start with The Beatles!"

"Why not Beethoven?" Suggested Mrs. Briefs.

"Good suggestion... I suppose we can start playing music every night! Wouldn't that be a great way to expose our guest to more culture? What do you say, Vegeta?"

Vegeta rose from the couch, hurriedly limped into the kitchen, pulled a six pack of beer from the refrigerator, limped back through the living room and out onto the patio. Mrs. Briefs followed behind him, urging him to sit down and keep his ankle elevated.

"Screw off. I'm taking an evening to myself! Nobody is to follow me unless they're craving a fight." Vegeta looked back at his hosts for only a split second with his eyes narrowed to slits, before he flew off into the darkening skies, heading towards the ocean.

**To Be Continued**


	11. Making Plans (or, Things Always Change)

Human Hospitality

by pureleaf

Chapter 11

Making Plans (or, Things Always Change)

Warning: There is some dialogue of a sexual nature in this chapter.

* * *

><p>The sea breeze was mercifully light and it was just warm enough that Vegeta did not regret leaving the house barefoot when he finally landed at the peak of a jagged cliff overlooking the ocean. He found a patch of grass and sat down, keeping his left leg stretched out in front of him and quickly cracking open a can of beer. It foamed a bit after being shaken repeatedly during the Saiyan's high speed flight away from the Briefs compound.<p>

The sun sank underneath the horizon. The sky darkened, first minute by minute, and then second by second once the last sliver of light seemingly disappeared underneath the sea. He stared into the evening sky, noting the locations of different constellations as they emerged and wondering if he'd ever again travel through the galaxy as extensively as he had as a young man.

Those years had been anxiety-ridden and filled with deeply unpleasant surprises. Vegeta had spent up to sixteen months at a time curled up in his pod, his body kept in stasis until he was mere hours away from landing on an unfamiliar planet, sometimes sent just to run a small errand on behalf of Frieza and sometimes sent to assassinate a leader or destroy everything outright. His assignments always changed- the only constants in his life were his two comrades, Raditz and Nappa, and his growing anger.

He crushed his first empty can of beer and tossed it over the edge of the cliff. He couldn't hear it land and wondered if the wind had picked it up and carried it away for him. He opened his second beer and drank it very quickly.

I'm trapped here, he thought resentfully, sure the Briefs may have another ship, but if I leave, where will I go? I cannot live on a spaceship forever. Even if Frieza were still alive, there would be precious few planets that would welcome the prince of all Saiyans with open arms.

"I wonder how different planets are handling Freiza's death... surely by now the news is travelling fast..." Vegeta mused aloud, cracking open his third can of beer. The Saiyan could feel the alcohol moving through his system and welcomed the buzz.

He'd left Frieza's station on Planet 79 with Nappa and Raditz in tow for the very last time almost three years prior, assigned to eliminate the insect-like people of a massive planet called Ahdar and get it ready for sale. The plan had been to burn their way through Ahdar over the course of ten to twelve months (they'd been given up to two and a half years to kill all advanced life forms and then destroy all remaining structures), working in rotating eight to ten hour shifts, but when they encountered a heavily-armed populace that refused to go down without a fight, the three Saiyans realized they would need help to get the job done.

"Hmm, it's just a thought... I've got a younger brother kicking around on some rock called "Earth". He's probably about a year away from here- we'll be put a bit behind schedule but should still be able to complete the job before the deadline, and it'll mean more help from our own kind with future assignments," Raditz had suggested as he wound-down from his shift at their temporary base camp. Nappa had left for his shift and Vegeta was required to stay alert and guard the camp.

"You have a brother?" Vegeta questioned his comrade through a mouthful of meat pulled from the claw of a slain Ahdarian scout he'd killed an hour prior. He'd already eaten most of the creature's innards after discovering they tasted rather like shellfish. The huge claw had been cracked open and balanced on small rocks and left to cook over glowing embers from the campfire. The Saiyan lay on his side on the mossy ground, propped up on one elbow and eyes constantly wandering as he monitored his surroundings.

"Yeah. His name is Kakkarot. He was born when I was thirteen... or was I fourteen? One of the last Saiyans off planet Vegeta, if not the very last Saiyan to escape... but I'm thinking he'll be pushing twenty one or twenty two by this point and has probably been long-finished with his assignment there."

"Then why the hell didn't he return to a nearby station for debriefing and further instructions, hmm? He's probably dead, Raditz." Vegeta spat out a fragment of shell before he sat up and started to comb his fingers through his hair. He cringed when he came across a matted patch of dried blood and dirt two inches above his scalp. Definitely _not_ his own blood at that point...

"Fair point. I am not certain he is still alive, but it may be worthwhile to check anyway," Raditz replied, cleaning multiple cuts and scrapes to his powerful legs using a healing spray he carried in an inner pocket in his armour, "it's possible his ship was destroyed or malfunctioned and he's just been biding his time on the planet until somebody shows up."

"Knowing your luck, Raditz, you'll manage to get your stupid ass killed the same day you land on Earth." Vegeta laughed at his own remark, reached over the fire and pulled out another steaming chunk of claw meat.

"Vegeta, that's not funny."

"I will be sure to laugh as you choke on your own blood and die in agony, Raditz. Go to Earth and check out the situation there. Keep your communication line open so we can hear what's going on when you get there. Do you understand?"

"Got it. Wake me up if the plans change before I get to Earth. Gonna be rough, knowing I'm not gonna get laid for another year or two..." Raditz ran his tongue over his top teeth and cocked a brow. He set down his healing spray and a lazy smirk spread across his face when he looked at Vegeta.

"Don't look at me!" Snapped Vegeta.

"Come onnn..." Raditz drawled, "you're not gonna see me for a long time..."

"This is work..."

"You're no fun!"

"You're a disgusting son of a bitch, Raditz. I really do want you leave once you're done taking care of your superficial injuries."

Raditz clicked his tongue in annoyance and took the claw out of the fire and started eating. "C'mon, let loose for a bit. You need to relax." He finished all the claw meat in four greedy bites.

Vegeta stood up and moved to the shore of the shallow lake by which they were currently camping and pulled his armour and gloves off. "Raditz, you keep pushing me and I'm going to tear your dick off. Just jerk off before going into stasis if you're that horny, or fuck an Earthling should any of them remain when you get there. I want _nothing_ to do with you. Now get the hell out of here before I reconsider our agreement and give you some serious injuries to deal with!"

"Fine, I'm going! See you and Nappa in about two years." Raditz called for his pod and let himself rise into the air in order to meet it just on the other side of a dense patch of brushwood.

Vegeta didn't bother acknowledging Raditz as he left. He undressed and walked into the lake to wash off. It would be the last time they would speak in person.

* * *

><p>"Things never seem to go as planned..." said Vegeta, now laying on his back and watching the stars turn, somewhat drunk and his mood growing darker, "no matter how hard I work. No matter how thoroughly I think things through. And now with Kakkarot a Super Saiyan and bound to return soon, it seems that my plans may be thwarted, and I simply cannot allow that to happen yet again!"<p>

He sat up, gazing at the point where the night sky merged with the dark ocean, and sighed in frustration. "I must make alternative plans now. Perhaps it would be best to leave just before Kakkarot is wished back and return to Earth at a later date."

Vegeta rose to his feet and took off into the night once more, unsure of where to head next.

**To Be Continued**


	12. Searching

Human Hospitality

by pureleaf

Chapter 12

Searching

* * *

><p>Morning dew was starting to evaporate from the manicured grass around the Briefs compound as the family matriarch cut fresh flowers to bring inside for the kitchen and bedrooms. She noticed that Vegeta's bed was still made when she'd woken up at seven. He hadn't returned during the night, and Mrs. Briefs had to remind herself that her guest could take care of himself just fine.<p>

As she cut peonies from one of the largest bushes in the garden, Vegeta landed nearby in the yard, his clothing wet and eyes tired.

"Good morning, Vegeta. Why don't you come inside and warm up? I'll make you some tea."

He didn't object or offer a sharp retort to her suggestion. Instead, he silently followed her inside and went upstairs to get changed before returning to the kitchen.

She poured him a large mug of mint tea and toasted some sliced whole wheat bread. He seemed a bit detached and she got the feeling he wouldn't be eating a huge meal for a change. Whatever he was doing all night it wasn't because he was happy, she thought, something is bothering him and he's not going to open up about it to anybody. I just hope there won't be too much acting out today...

"Would you mind company, Vegeta?" She asked, moving to pull out the chair across the table from the Saiyan.

He shrugged and picked at a slice of toast. "If you insist."

"You look very tired. What did you do last night?"

Vegeta looked up at Mrs. Briefs and exhaled sharply through his nostrils. "It was nothing that would be of interest to you. Just searching for something."

"Searching for what?"

He clicked his tongue against the back of his teeth. Vegeta knew that Mrs. Briefs probably didn't understand it meant he was considering his words before he spoke, but she tended not to question to his non-verbal vocalizations as often as Dr. Briefs or Bulma did.

Finally, he spoke: "I was looking for the place where my comrade was killed by the one named Piccolo about a year and a half ago."

"Oh," Mrs. Briefs took a long sip of tea, "paying your respects?"

"I didn't find the place. Tell Bulma to come speak with me later today. I need to ask her about where he died. She'll know."

"Of course. Say, you don't have fresh flowers in your room, do you?"

He choked on his tea. "I don't need flowers in there!"

"It's no problem! It'll liven the place up! You know, you can rearrange or decorate that room however makes you feel most comfortable, Vegeta. Whatever you need to feel at home, just ask. And you can stay here for as long as you need to."

Vegeta almost swallowed a mouthful of dry toast when he tried to stifle a bark of laughter.

"So," he cleared his throat, "the Dragonballs will be ready for use soon..."

"Our Namekian guests told me another few days at the most. They're such lovely people, aren't they?"

Vegeta shrugged. "Wouldn't know."

"You're welcome to help me in the garden any time, Vegeta. The Namekians have been taking care of the plants in the green houses. One more set of hands would always be appreciated."

"It is best that the green men to stay far away from me."

Mrs. Briefs sighed. "You don't need to be alone here. Get out and enjoy yourself, it can't be much fun isolating yourself in that simulator every single day."

"I must train. Whether or not it is "fun" doesn't matter at this point."

"I know how determined you are, honey. You already look a lot different since you arrived several weeks ago. You should be proud."

"A Saiyan with no pride is a Saiyan who has given up on his life, and I refuse to give up!" He pushed away his tea and rose from his seat at the table and went to his room without saying another word.

When Vegeta awoke at two in the afternoon, the first thing he noticed was a slender vase holding three peonies set on his desk.

"I'm going to get soft if these humans keep treating me this way..."

* * *

><p>Vegeta took the entire day off to let his ankle recover. It didn't hurt badly, but it was swollen and tender enough that the Saiyan knew trying to land another back flip in intense gravity would result in pain and possibly aggravate the injury.<p>

Bulma came to his room at four thirty in the afternoon, as Vegeta lay on his stomach and flipped through the channels on the television that had been put in his bedroom. "My Mom said you asked me to stop by. What's up?"

"I need you to take me to the place where Raditz died. What did you do with his body?"

"Uh... Krillin and Master Roshi buried him. We didn't mark the grave but I know the general area."

Vegeta smirked. "What a fitting end..."

"Did we do something wrong by burying him?"

The Saiyan pulled himself into a cross-legged position on his bed and chuckled. "Saiyan custom dictates that we cremate our dead to honour their strength and valour. We also cremate the dead so that scavengers may not steal any items they were carrying at the time of death. There's also a belief that cremation assists in helping the spirit make its way to the afterlife... but I now think that the spirit can leave the body without any help. By burying him, you've basically said he contributed nothing and deserves to be forgotten."

"Ooh... I'm sorry."

"I'm not."

* * *

><p>They left after dinner, taking an airship that boasted comfortable seating and even a mini-fridge on board. Bulma set the coordinates for the valley where Raditz had been killed almost eighteen months prior and sit back in the pilot's seat, mentally preparing herself for the journey. It would be the first time she'd be truly all alone with Vegeta.<p>

Once they were at cruising altitude, Bulma set the airship on autopilot and fetched a can of fruit juice from the fridge.

"It's going to take about two hours to get there. Think you'll be okay with it getting dark?"

"Saiyans can see very well in the dark."

"What exactly are you planning to do, Vegeta?"

"I'm going to exhume Raditz' remains. He was carrying a few items that may be of some help to me. You're the one who took his scouter, correct?"

"I am. Took me an entire night to get it to work in English."

"Ah, so you're the one I kept hearing down the line..."

Bulma's brows rose in surprise and she turned to Vegeta. "Wait, you could hear me? How?!"

"The scouters worked as communication devices. Raditz had turned his communication line on so I could monitor his activities on Earth. After he died, you apparently took his scouter but you did not turn off the communication line. I heard you talking with your friends. Heard you crying. I could hear you taking the scouter apart and eventually heard you putting it back together again. Then you wore it for a few minutes and checked the power levels of your friends."

Bulma went pale. "You... you listened in on me?"

"You and the short bald one were the very first human voices I heard. It's not right to accuse me of "listening in on you" like I was deliberately spying, but I did hear you speaking when you wore the scouter."

"Why didn't you respond?"

"What was I to say? "Ha ha, I'm coming for you", or perhaps, "greetings Earthling, prepare to die"? I just listened to you for a few minutes before going into stasis for about eight months. Nappa and I made a quick stop before landing on Earth, but by then I wasn't hearing your voice any longer. You must have left the scouter in a drawer or something."

Bulma was horrified by the revelation that Vegeta had heard her voice more than a year prior to their chance meeting on Namek.

"I will say... your voice is much more pleasant than the one you call Krillin."

"He'll be coming back in a few days... and Yamcha too. When they return, please don't harm them..."

"Not a chance," scoffed Vegeta, "I'm not interested in them anyway. I will wait for Kakkarot, and we will not battle near your family's property."

They flew in silence for more than an hour when Bulma finally spoke again.

"So Raditz really was Goku's older brother, huh? But he was so nasty! The total opposite of Goku."

"Kakkarot was raised on Earth and supposedly had experienced a head injury when he was very young, which very well may have affected his disposition. Raditz seems to think he was about fourteen years Kakkarot's senior. You are also right in saying they were radically different from each other."

"When Raditz landed on Roshi's island, I started to wonder if Goku had a long-lost fraternal twin or something before he started talking... but it didn't take long to discover they're nothing alike! I can't sense energy like you or Krillin or Goku can, but I got a really bad feeling when he showed up. Not to mention he smelled terrible!"

Vegeta smirked. "By the time Raditz landed here, he'd been forced to go without a bath for more than a year. He took pride in his appearance, you know. He knew full well he was attractive and liked to use it to his advantage."

"Ick... he was so sleazy."

"Very sleazy and quick witted, a terrible combination. He may have been physically weak, but he wasn't the worst partner to work with all things considered- he got the job done and knew when to shut his mouth. He was also good at charming others and lulling them into a false sense of security. The only time I didn't loathe him was when we were drinking."

"You don't seem like somebody who would take an evening off. No offense..."

"None taken. I haven't partied in years."

"When Yamcha gets back, I'm going to take him out for dinner and dancing." Bulma's chest heaved as she sighed, hopeful and happy for her future with Yamcha.

"I take it you've been together for a long time?"

"On and off... he's cheated on me a few times. Maybe he'll return a changed man."

"Cheated on you? I don't understand that expression."

"What I mean is that he went out and had sex with different women when we were supposed to be in a monogamous relationship."

"Hmm. Well, don't look to me for any advice." He got up from his chair and went to the fridge and found wrapped sandwiches and fruit. He was hungry and brought two sandwiches and an apple back to his seat.

"It's official: you do eat more than Goku." Bulma eyed her passenger as he started eating and shook her head in disbelief. The airship's GPS beeped, indicating they'd arrived at the valley. She landed the airship in a patch of thin grass and shut the engines off.

"Arriving when I start eating. Typical. Alright..." the Saiyan threw the second unwrapped sandwich on the dashboard and disembarked.

Miles away from light pollution, the night sky revealed billions of stars and the band of the Milky Way galaxy that seemed to stretch for miles across the horizon.

"Wow! Look at the sky! Isn't it just gorgeous?" Bulma marvelled at the sight above.

"It looks really nice from a distance. Too bad the reality is much worse," the Saiyan snickered and bent down to pull up a clump of soil. He broke it up in his right hand and breathed in its scent several times, exhaling through his mouth, seemingly trying to get a taste for something in the earth.

He stood up straight and sniffed the dirt one last time before tossing it over his shoulder. "That way," he pointed northeast towards a snow-capped mountain range, "about five hundred meters."

They found his grave within fifteen minutes of searching; Vegeta relying on scent and night vision and Bulma relying on a flashlight and never straying too far from the Saiyan for fear of what might be moving through the grasses. A patch of young grass and crumbly soil clued Vegeta in.

"Hope you humans didn't bury him too deep..." Vegeta plunged his hands into the dirt and started throwing it to one side. His knuckles soon brushed against something he immediately recognized as bone and he started to sweep away the dirt around it. Soon, he realized it was a femur, huge and bright against the dark soil.

Raditz' corpse had been almost completely reduced to skeleton by that point, although a fair amount of his hair was still attached to the skull. The huge suit of armour hung around the shoulders and collarbones and Vegeta started to pull it off the body.

Five feet away, Bulma started to retch at the smell of decay and turned away, her mouth filling with saliva. "Ugh! That's disgusting! Is that armour what you were looking for, Vegeta?"

"Yes!" He called, inspecting the cracks to the armour and hoping the inner pockets were intact, "we can leave in a few minutes. You work with microchips, correct?" He pulled off Raditz' skull and shook it gently. He could hear something rattling inside.

"Yeah! Are you getting those too?"

Vegeta smashed the skull open and found three microchips inside, covered in dried grey matter. He pocketed them and dropped the skull back into the earth. He pulled the armour out and climbed out of the shallow grave.

"I'm so grossed out! Vegeta, I'll leave you to pay your final respects because I can't take that smell any more! See you at the ship." Bulma turned and jogged back to the ship, fearing she'd vomit if she lingered at the grave site any longer.

The Saiyan stared down at the bones and sighed. "You're the reason I'm in this mess, but you're also the reason I have a worthy opponent. Until we meet again, you stupid bastard," he sent a wave of intensely hot energy across the grave, which turned the bones and dirt to ash within seconds.

The wind picked up as Vegeta returned to the ship with the microchips and suit of upper body armour. He set them in the back and sat back down. He went to eat his sandwich when he realized his hands were filthy. "Ughhh..."

Bulma laughed and reached into her purse. "Try these," she handed him a few foil-wrapped wet napkins.

* * *

><p>They returned home just after ten in the evening and went to the lab together. Vegeta carried the armour to a large steel table directly under a set of powerful lights and started to poke his fingers into its different internal pockets. He found sixteen different vials carrying near-microscopic labels in Galactic Standard; some containing seeds and liquid for Saibamen and others containing useful medications. Carefully inspecting the contents of each vial, he determined at least six of them were recreational substances. He put those vials in his pockets right away.<p>

_Sooner or later I'm going to crave a night out of my own head... _

"Wait, if I can take a very tiny sample from those vials, I could probably create analogues to any medicines you've required in the past." Bulma offered, still unsure of how Vegeta would react to human drugs if he ever fell ill or was seriously injured.

"These ones, then," he gave her eight vials containing medicine, "these are drugs with _genuine_ medical applications. Don't worry about the other eight, they're completely useless," he lied.

"Would you mind helping me label the samples? Any information you have about these medications would help me a great deal. It might take a while, so we'll order a pizza."

"You have a deal, Bulma."

* * *

><p>Two days later, Vegeta's sprained ankle had recovered and he'd resumed his intense training. Raditz had been carrying an extremely powerful painkiller and after Bulma had taken a mere shaving off one of the tiny tablets (there had been more than 100 remaining in the 2 inch vial) and he'd rediscovered he only needed to take one to feel better.<p>

After showering in the early afternoon, Vegeta ventured onto his balcony to get some fresh air and his eyes widened with surprise when he spotted the scene down on the ground: Kakkarot's kid and his wife, all the Namekians, and the Briefs were gathered around the reactivated Dragonballs, chattering excitedly.

"Oh, shit," he muttered, "I guess it's time. I'd best get ready."

He rushed back inside and changed into his old, tattered uniform, his gloves and his boots. It may not have been ideal, but he wanted to appear before Kakkarot as the prince of all Saiyans and not a refugee stranded on Earth. Dressed in his uniform, he watched from his balcony with his heart pounding as the young Namekian called Dende called forth the dragon.

**To Be Continued**


	13. Reunion and Departure

Human Hospitality

by pureleaf

Chapter 13

Reunion and Departure

* * *

><p>The awesome size of the dragon called Porunga still took Vegeta by surprise and made him feel weak. The sky overhead turned black. When the dragon spoke in the Namekian tongue it felt as though the Earth itself were trembling beneath Vegeta's feet and he tightened his grip on the balcony's railing. He knew that immortality would always be out of his grasp. There was nothing he could do as the humans got the chance to revive their friends and Namekians wished for a new home.<p>

_Kakkarot will return today and I am not a Super Saiyan... nowhere close! _

He could scarcely breathe, more anxious at that moment than he'd been in many years. His stomach felt like it was twisting into knots.

First, they wished for Kakkarot and Krillin to be brought to the check-in station.

"The one called Krillin has been brought to the check-in station. I cannot bring the one called Goku to the check-in station because he is alive!"

The Saiyan's jaw dropped. Kakkarot had survived?! But how? Surely he had misheard the young Namekian translating the dragon's words!

They used the second wish to bring Krillin back to life. He appeared before the crowd gathered in the garden, clad in the armour Vegeta had given him on Namek and very confused for several moments before recognizing where he was. A round of cheers and applause from the crowd made Vegeta roll his eyes and sneer in disgust.

His heart pounded in his throat as they asked the dragon to bring Kakkarot back to Earth with their third and final wish.

When Kakkarot did not appear before the crowd, Vegeta's breath seemed to get trapped somewhere in his chest and he started to worry that his rival had become capable of resisting the power of a supernatural creature capable of bringing the dead back to life.

"I cannot bring the one called Goku here. He has requested not to return at this time but vows to return on his own at a later date. You have one wish remaining... speak now!"

The Saiyan rushed back into his bedroom, snatched the gym bag Bulma had given him from his closet and started to shove a few changes of clothing, his trainers, a few toiletries inside. He threw all the vials into a side pouch and left his bedroom. He went across the hall to Bulma's room, rifled through the jewelry box set on her desk and took three gold rings set with precious stones, a gold bauble that looked like a tiny arrow, and two gold chain necklaces, one chain delicate and the other thick and almost heavy in his palm. He shoved them into the compartment holding his vials of medicine. So furious he couldn't even zip the gym bag shut, he rushed downstairs and took all the fruit from the refrigerator, a few tins of tuna fish and box of crackers from the cupboards, and finally went into the living room and snatched several large bottles of liquor (not really knowing what varieties they were) from Dr. Brief's home bar and threw them inside the bag.

_Everybody's hanging around outside and I'm robbing them blind. This should be enough to help me get a fresh start..._

Vegeta went out the side door and ran to the gravity simulator. It was almost identical to Kakkarot's ship in every way and he knew it was his ticket out of there.

He boarded, set his bag into a chair and set the navigation console's coordinates for a small planet called Ardeheb. The console's soothing computerized voice initiated a countdown and he sat back in the pilot's seat and swung around to look out the nearest port window.

The sky was back to normal and a celebration was underway. The one called Yamcha had been wished back and he and Bulma were embracing passionately. The eldest Namekian was speaking with Dr. Briefs and they shook hands. Kakkarot's wife appeared furious, and his son seemed somewhat dazed by the news that his father was alive but wouldn't be coming back until a later date.

_I almost feel sorry for that little whelp... _

"Five... four... three... two... one... liftoff."

Less than a minute later, Earth was little more than a rapidly shrinking blue and green marble somewhere outside the port window.

"I should have known Kakkarot would be cunning enough to escape Namek and find a place to continue his training. How foolish of me to underestimate him! I've wasted so much time with those idiots on Earth! What the hell was I thinking?!" Vegeta rose from the pilot's chair and paced around the simulator. The refrigerator in the simulator was kept well-stocked. He opened his gym bag and started to sift through what he'd taken with him.

"Computer! How long until arrival at Ardeheb?" Vegeta barked at the console.

"Estimated time of travel is twenty seven hours. Warning! Upcoming electrical field may result in disturbances in power supply aboard. Maintaining gravity levels no greater than ten times normal gravity strongly advised for next nine hours, thirty minutes."

"Damn it! Fine. It's always something..." Vegeta swung the gym bag over his shoulder and took the ladder down to the lower level to unpack his things.

He could swear he felt turbulence after an hour. After two hours, he heard things rattling around in the cupboards of the on-board kitchenette. Unwilling to risk injury by training in a ship that couldn't guarantee stable gravity at that moment, Vegeta had taken to laying across his narrow bed and flipped through the small selection of films available on a hard drive hooked up to the television. He munched on some fruit absentmindedly and eventually watched movie about a group of men fighting and killing each over a satchel of cash. It wasn't particularly interesting to the Saiyan, but it was enough to keep his mind from racing nonstop until he inevitably had a panic attack.

After the movie was over, the Saiyan decided to try and determine what sort of liquor he'd stolen from the Briefs family. If he didn't like it, he could use it for barter- Vegeta knew that overworked soldiers would give away valuable items for a few sips of liquor. Before Vegeta had decided to betray Frieza, he'd usually been well-compensated for his work. He hadn't had his freedom, or even a home planet, but Vegeta had been reasonably wealthy. Now there was no real way to access the money he'd had at his disposal before. Still, Vegeta knew he would be capable of getting everything he needed, one way or another.

The first bottle was tall, dark green and rectangular. It bore the image of a horned animal and smelled so strongly of medicinal herbs that Vegeta sneezed after a sniff. Cautiously, Vegeta took a small sip. "Eugh! This is for barter."

The next bottle was cylindrical and the liquid was both clear and smelled of little more than ethanol. It was vodka. Vegeta swallowed a capful and decided to keep it. "This might be useful in cleaning cuts..."

He chose to keep vodka, the dark, sweet spirit that he was certain the humans called "rum" and another bottle he immediately identified as whiskey by the purple drawstring bag it was stored in. The Saiyan chose part with the herb liqueur, a foul-smelling spirit that bore the image of a worm on the label, a bottle of red wine, and a strange liqueur that smelled of citrus and yet was bright blue in colour.

After his reluctant taste testing session, Vegeta went to his small on-board washroom to brush his teeth before he curled up in his bed and fell asleep. He dreamed of pale-haired, faceless Saiyans with radiant golden auras surrounding him, blocking him from climbing a steep set of stairs that vanished into a thick fog, and he awoke covered in a film of cold sweat.

The turbulence had passed and Vegeta found himself aimlessly wandering around the ship after a quick shower. Unsure of what he'd encounter on Ardeheb, Vegeta chose to conserve his energy and watched films while eating the last of the fruit he'd stolen from the Briefs family.

* * *

><p>Bulma swore under her breath as she took a second inventory of her jewelry. In all, six pieces were missing and all of them were quite valuable. She and Yamcha had gone up to her bedroom after dinner and she'd screamed when she saw her jewelry box sat open with different pieces strewn about her desk.<p>

"He ripped me off, Yamcha! I can't believe it!"

"I can believe it, babe. Do you really think he'd ever respect you or your property?"

The heiress sighed. "He must have had a good reason for taking what he did... Yamcha, he took gold. Do you know what that means?"

Yamcha didn't respond but he did roll his eyes. He'd only been back on Earth for a few hours and Bulma seemed more concerned with Vegeta than with him, and it was starting to make the resurrected warrior feel quite jealous.

"He took the gold so he'd have something to barter with... I think he took off to find Goku. Think of how many worlds he must know... oh, Yamcha..." Bulma's eyes welled up with tears and she wrapped her slender arms around her boyfriend's shoulders, breaking down in heavy sobs.

Yamcha was almost reluctant to return Bulma's embrace.

* * *

><p>The ship went in for a gentle landing on the barren outskirts of one of the few outposts on the tiny, arid planet. Vegeta had changed the torn shirt from his old uniform for a white t-shirt and took the time to cut one of his t-shirts up the seam, which he then soaked in cold water before turning it into a makeshift tagelmust to protect his face from the heat and dust that awaited him.<p>

Ardeheb had little to offer. Water was scarce, the soil mostly infertile, the heat and sun so intense that Vegeta knew not to leave his skin exposed for very long.

He packed the bottle of blue-coloured liquor and a bottle of fresh water into a plain canvas bag he'd found in the kitchenette, disembarked the ship, and made certain the doors were locked before leaving. It was a three kilometre flight to the outpost and Vegeta decided to fly slowly and fairly low to the ground.

Centre 23 was a lonely place on Ardeheb, little more than a collection of dumpy taverns, a depressing little market, repair shops run by the native people of the planet, and a few stores that catered to PTO soldiers. The Planet Trade Organization only held on to Ardeheb because it was a symbol of how far the Cold Empire stretched across the galaxy.

Vegeta first went to a cramped, dingy stall that sold proper headscarves and handwoven clothing. The market was nearly deserted and many of the stalls had been boarded up. A squat creature with bumpy olive-green skin eyed Vegeta with suspicion.

"I have no money," he pulled at his tagelmust to loosen it, "but I could offer you exotic spirits from a distant planet in exchange for clothing."

"Bah! It's poison." The shopkeeper sneered at Vegeta.

The Saiyan reached into his bag and pulled out the bottle of liquor. "No poison in this vessel, my friend. I need clothing and directions."

"No uniform on you. No see your face. PTO always show faces. You enemy."

Vegeta pulled off his damp tagelmust. The shopkeeper's ugly face froze with fear- he'd heard terrible rumours about a rogue PTO soldier with large almond-shaped eyes and black hair that stood up like a flame who would kill without a second thought and was even said to eat his enemies.

"No, no, no harm. Please, no harm..." the shopkeeper held his hands up for Vegeta, ensuring he was unarmed.

"Then give me what I want and no harm will come to you."

The shopkeeper handed Vegeta a loose, long white tunic, made from a fabric similar to linen, and two large scarves made from vibrant blue and purple material. "You like, yes? Anything you wish."

"It's fine. I wish to know about Frieza's current state. Surely you have been updated."

"Yes, yes... last we hear was months ago, last we hear is he is alive and ageless."

_Either they're way behind on this planet, or Kakkarot really screwed up... _

Vegeta drizzled some fresh water on the blue scarf and quickly wrapped it around his head and face until there was only a slit open for his eyes to see. He checked his reflection in a cracked mirror and decided it looked alright. "I thank you, friend. The garments will be suitable. Our business is done."

The shopkeeper grunted and poked Vegeta's shoulder. "My friend... you pay me now."

"How could I forget?" Vegeta vanished and re-appeared behind the shopkeeper, grabbed hold of his head, and snapped his neck by jerking his head up and to the right. The rotund shopkeeper dropped to the ground in a lifeless heap. Vegeta buttoned up his new tunic and left the stall. "And now, something to eat..."

**To Be Continued**


	14. The New Normal

Human Hospitality

by pureleaf

Chapter 14

The New Normal

* * *

><p>The day after Vegeta had suddenly left, Bulma made good on her promise to take Yamcha out for a great dinner and made reservations at a popular restaurant called Bistro Nineteen.<p>

The first night with Yamcha back on Earth had been very tense after he accused Bulma of caring about Vegeta more than her own boyfriend. Bulma furiously denied these accusations, but her concern for Vegeta's safety lingered in the back of her mind even when they made love for the first time in many months.

Bistro Nineteen was expensive, trendy, and it was notoriously difficult to get a reservation. Bulma had lucked out, scoring a table for two for seven thirty after a last-minute cancellation that very afternoon. She purchased Yamcha a brand new suit and found a sleeveless black dress to wear on their date, pairing it with delicate silver jewelry and a pair of low heels.

Over a shared plate of appetizers, Yamcha asked Bulma about what had happened on Namek.

"It was a mess, Yamcha. I'd rather not even think of how crazy and out-of-control that entire situation was from the second we landed there, let alone talk about it. If it weren't for Gohan, Krillin, and Vege- um, those three made one hell of a team before Goku arrived and if it weren't for them, I wouldn't be alive and you'd still be dead. I'm just glad you're back!"

Yamcha rolled his eyes at the mention of the Saiyan's name. "I still can't believe you offered him a place to stay... and right across the hall, too! What the hell were you thinking? It's a miracle he didn't kill you."

Bulma sighed and spread baked brie on a slice of baguette. "All things considered, Yamcha, he wasn't a horrible guest. Not perfect, but he wasn't as destructive as I initially feared. He's just... intense. There's a lot going on in his head."

"Uh huh," Yamcha threw back a gulp of red wine, "but you can never trust somebody like that. If he wasn't intent on killing you, he was probably planning to rape you."

The young engineer felt her blood pressure spike at Yamcha's remark. "You know what, Yamcha?" Her lips were vibrating with anger, "I _offered _to let him stay with my family under the condition that he did not touch me, a condition he agreed to, and _not once_ did he touch me! He kept his word, and that matters a great deal to me!"

"You got lucky, Bulma," Yamcha poured himself another glass of wine from the bottle they were sharing, "really lucky. And he still ripped you off."

"The jewelry and alcohol can be easily replaced. It's obvious he took stuff he could easily trade."

"And now you're defending his actions! You slept with him, didn't you?"

Just then, Yamcha's phone buzzed across the table, and before Yamcha could pick it up Bulma took it to see who was contacting her boyfriend. A picture of a heavily made-up woman with pale blonde hair extensions and huge breasts flashed across the screen.

**CANDI: XOXO hi babe, r u back frm ur retreet yet? Missin u n ur sexxy bod tonite ;) **

The warrior swallowed a lump in his throat as Bulma stared at his phone, the colour draining from her face as she re-read the text message several times. Finally, Bulma rose from her seat at the table and gently set the phone back down on the table. "I waited for you to come back, Yamcha, and I really don't appreciate that you keep accusing me of cheating on you because I offered somebody in a bad situation a safe place to stay. Unlike you, I'm serious about that monogamy thing we supposedly agreed to. Here," she reached into her evening bag and dropped several bills in Yamcha's lap, "pay the bill and find somewhere else to sleep tonight. I don't want to see you until you think you can commit to me and me only. Good night."

She stormed out of the restaurant, forgetting her jacket in the process, and hailed a taxi to take her home.

Yamcha sighed, flipped through the bills and discovered Bulma had given him eight thousand Zeni. It was enough to pay for dinner and rent a nice hotel room for at least a week. He put the bills in his wallet and picked up his phone.

**YAMCHA: R u home now? Wanna c u ASAP**

* * *

><p>Ardeheb had been a bust. Everybody Vegeta spoke to on the hellish little planet claimed Frieza was alive and well, supposedly en-route to an unknown planet in search of treasure, or so the story went. He refrained from killing anybody else, rather concerned with getting blood on his new tunic.<p>

Vegeta acquired scouters from a pair of low-ranking soldiers in exchange for a few shots of the blue liquor. He'd gone into a stuffy tavern that stunk of urine and chose not to eat or drink anything, repulsed by his surroundings. He let the soldiers drink directly from the bottle, unconcerned with contaminating the liquid inside.

The barkeep said nothing when the strange traveler with the headscarf and tunic produced outside liquor and immediately started speaking with soldiers. He got a bad feeling and slipped out the back door to smoke.

"So Frieza's alive, then? Thank you for the information, soldier."

"Of course he's alive! Do you know how powerful Frieza is? Nobody can defeat him."

"Is that so?" The Saiyan's eyes narrowed behind the slit in his headscarf.

"It's the truth, man!" The younger of the two soldiers said, a humanoid with limp lime green hair and purple eyes, "I heard this rumour that some solider called Vegeta went AWOL about a year ago and Frieza personally tracked him down and killed him. And that Vegeta guy was supposedly a killing machine!"

"Oh, yeah! I've heard about that Vegeta guy too!" The older soldier, a scaly creature with a sharp nose and beady red eyes, nodded in agreement and looked back at the mysterious figure before him, "the story goes that Vegeta was plotting to overthrow Frieza, but that Frieza caught up with him and killed him. Ripped his heart out of his chest and ate it whole."

"That's quite the story. Good luck to you both," Vegeta adjusted his headscarf and put the scouters into his bag, "you're going to need it in the PTO."

He'd returned to the ship to find a scout circling around it, talking with somebody on the scouter installed into the helmet he wore.

"Hey, you there," Vegeta approached the scout, "leave the area now! This is your only warning."

"Who the hell are you?" The scout scowled at Vegeta and pointed his sidearm at the Saiyan. "Identify yourself!"

"I'm Vegeta," the Saiyan flung a blast of energy at the scout, who was immediately vaporized, "and I'm not dead!"

He boarded the ship and took off, unsure of where to head next.

* * *

><p>It was one in the morning in West City when Bulma decided to try contacting Vegeta's ship. She'd returned home from dinner, furious (but not entirely surprised) with Yamcha's behaviour, changed into sweatpants and a tank top before going to the lab to continue working with the samples of medicine Vegeta had provided her.<p>

She missed Vegeta's company. He would regularly wander into her lab, pull up a chair, sit in it backwards, and silently watch her work. He was as comfortable with silence as she was, and he listened intently when she spoke.

Vegeta had trained for five hours straight at ninety times Earth's gravity before he set the gravity back to normal and rinsed off in his shower and changed into sweatpants and a t-shirt. He was eating a tin of tuna and some crackers when the video screen on the console flashed and the computer said: "INCOMING VIDEO CALL... INCOMING VIDEO CALL... INCOMING VIDEO CALL..."

He chose to accept the call. "Yeah?"

"Vegeta! You're alright! And... you're eating. Of course you are. Where are you?" Bulma's face broke into a huge smile when she saw him leaning back in the pilot's seat.

"Um," he stopped to swallow a mouthful crackers, "I left Ardeheb a few hours ago. Not a great holiday spot, just in case you're wondering. I'm just trying to get some accurate information before I barge into PTO territory."

"Why did you leave, Vegeta? We were all really upset that you chose to run away like that!"

The Saiyan shrugged and doubted the Namekians or Bulma's boyfriend were upset that he left. "It really doesn't concern you."

"Well, you stole my stuff and took off in the ship I built, so yes, it does concern me!"

"I'm looking for Kakkarot. He must be hiding out somewhere, getting even stronger, and I just can't sit around on Earth until he feels like coming back," Vegeta dug around the cardboard box searching for more crackers, "but I'll return eventually."

"You're always welcome back here, Vegeta. Why didn't you at least tell me you were planning to leave? I could have given you some supplies..."

"It was a bit of a impulsive decision, I'll admit that much. I grabbed what I needed and took off. So, where's your boyfriend? You two seemed pretty damn content as I was leaving."

"Ugh!" Bulma's upper lip curled at the thought of Yamcha. "Don't remind me! He'd rather enjoy the company of some floozy with fake tits over his faithful girlfriend!"

"Anyway..." Vegeta sighed. He studied Bulma's image in the monitor and tried to wrap his head around the concept of a human female with artificial breasts.

"Be careful, Vegeta. I care about you and want to see you return in one piece. You can call me if you run into trouble or just need to talk to somebody. By the way, there's some tools in a red box in the cupboard underneath the kitchen sink. You'll find some screwdrivers, a few hammers, and a drill in there."

"Ah-ha," Vegeta reached into his bag and showed Bulma the scouters through the monitor, "that's good to know. I got these today so I'll be able to listen in on Frieza's men. The official story is that Frieza's alive and I was little more than a snack for him, so I'm going to take advantage of the situation for the next little while."

"Oh god..." Bulma tensed, "be careful. Goku would be upset if he knew you were hurting people..."

"Please," he sniffed, "Kakkarot should be more concerned with his damn kid than with what I'm up to. I do what I need to do in order to survive, Bulma, and don't you ever forget that!"

"Even if it involves stealing jewelry from your hostess..." muttered Bulma.

Vegeta growled low in his throat, the first proper growl he'd let loose in what felt like years. "I'll pay you back someday, if the pieces mean that much to you. Besides, aren't you rich? Just buy some new crap to wear. I have to go. Good-bye, Bulma." He terminated the connection and started pacing the ship again, his mind racing. Did Bulma really want him to return in the future, or was she just offering him platitudes? She hadn't been as upset as he'd suspected she would be, in fact, she seemed more concerned for his well-being than anything else.

Something deep inside him almost felt badly for Bulma, knowing her boyfriend was already with another woman. She'd mentioned him often and seemed quite infatuated with him.

"Fake tits. That's just..." Vegeta spread his fingers wide and held them six inches above his pectorals, trying to imagine what she'd described, "...vulgar."

* * *

><p>For the next eight days, Vegeta travelled through space with no real destination in mind, training for up to ten hours straight and sleeping at least eight hours every day. Bulma called him once more, on the sixth day, but he ignored her call.<p>

When he awoke on the ninth day, Vegeta decided to look out the window and spotted planets that looked oddly familiar. He went to the console and realized he was deep in PTO territory. Why hadn't anybody intercepted him?

_Maybe they're too preoccupied with pretending everything is normal to bother with one little ship... _

He went to the fridge and realized he was down to a jar of salsa and two apples. He set the coordinates for Planet 56, a small, cool planet with two moons, a distant sun, and an atmosphere that was very similar to Earth's.

"ESTIMATED TIME OF ARRIVAL... TWENTY EIGHT MINUTES."

"Ha! I knew this place looked familiar. I can get things to eat there. Maybe even sleep somewhere else for the night. Better figure out what I'm going to barter with..." Vegeta went downstairs to his sleeping area and pulled his gym bag from under his bed and unzipped it.

Planet 56 had more to do, and therefore more people to interact with. There was always a risk he'd be caught, but it was very possible that he had the highest power level on the planet and any calls for help wouldn't be acknowledged in time.

Vegeta went into the side compartment and looked at his vials. He read the labels and found three that would be useful on the planet: liquid CX-980 (a dissociative substance frequently used to drug unsuspecting victims in crowded nightclubs), a vial filled with miniscule tablets containing a strong stimulant, and a potent powdered anaesthetic that PTO soldiers called "White Aura".

He looked through the jewelry he'd stolen. The first piece he examined was the tiny arrow, which was meant to be hung on a thin length of chain. He found the thin gold chain at the very bottom of the side compartment and slid its flat end through the tiny loop on the arrow, clasped the ends together and held it up for examination. The piece was so delicate and beautiful and after looking at it for several minutes Vegeta heaved a sigh and put it back in his gym bag.

"I can't part with that stupid necklace! Damn it, Vegeta..." he buried his face in his palms and fought the urge to scream, "get your shit together. Use one of the fucking rings, you fool."

Upstairs, the computer initiated a countdown to landing. Vegeta pulled one of the rings and the thick gold chain out of the bag, zipped it shut and shoved it back under his bed, and put everything into the pocket of his windbreaker. He took his blue scarf and wrapped it around his head (the sensation of his hair flattening down around his head and brushing against the back of his neck was very strange) and loosely around his mouth and neck. Revealing his nose and eyes was less likely to arouse suspicion, he reasoned.

His ship came to a stop. "DESTINATION REACHED. THANK YOU FOR TRAVELING WITH CAPSULE CORPORATION. HAVE A NICE DAY!"

* * *

><p>Seated at the kitchen table with a mug of coffee and plate of fresh fruit, Bulma flipped through an online jewelry catalogue on her tablet, searching for some new rings to order. She found herself missing her lunches with Vegeta, even if they were sometimes awkward and the Saiyan's table manners were occasionally lacking. She missed his bone-dry sense of humour and even missed the way he suddenly announce he needed to resume training.<p>

"Bulma, honey," Mrs. Briefs came into the kitchen with an armful of fresh-cut flowers, "Yamcha's waiting outside for you. He seems pretty upset... maybe you should go talk to him?"

The engineer looked up from her tablet and immediately asked herself how Vegeta would have reacted to Yamcha's return. "Okay, Mom. I'll go see him."

**To Be Continued**


	15. Dive Bar

Human Hospitality

by pureleaf

Chapter 15

Dive Bar

Author's Note: Hey, thanks for all the lovely reviews! I appreciate your feedback. Furthermore, I'm basically going to ignore the Garlic Junior filler saga, so this fanfiction is NOT true to canon.

* * *

><p>Bulma went out to the deck, lit a cigarette, and took a long drag before finally acknowledging Yamcha's presence. She folded her arms across her chest and glared at him through narrowed eyes.<p>

"Did you come back because you regret your actions, or did you come back because you're broke?"

Yamcha winced. He'd never heard Bulma speak with such sharpness, with such coldness in her voice. The warrior shook his head gently and stared at his shoes, unsure of how to reply.

"I came back because I feel like an idiot, and I wanted to apologize to you, Bulma. It wasn't right of me to speak like that..."

"No, it wasn't!" She snapped.

"I really care about you, Bulma, and when you told me that you'd let Vegeta stay here for all those months, I feared for your safety and freaked out. It was an overreaction."

"No kidding! So, what about that "Candi" woman? Where have you been staying this entire time?"

The warrior shot Bulma a sheepish smile and returned his gaze to his feet. "A cheap hotel. And Candi wasn't interested in me after she learned I no longer play baseball, so I deleted her information from my phone."

"Ah, so she was a groupie..." Bulma took a final drag from her cigarette before depositing the butt into an ashtray on the glass patio table, "guess she wasn't the challenging type, huh?"

"You have every right to be pissed at me, Bulma. I'm sorry for how I spoke to you and I'm sorry that I made assumptions re-"

"You accused me of having sex with Vegeta... are you serious with that nonsense? Like I said before, he didn't even lay a finger on me. Vegeta, he's just... well, he's like a weird friend of mine, and believe me when I say that I know how crazy that sounds! I'm going to stay in touch with him, seeing as he took the ship I built, but that doesn't mean I'm going to try and seduce him or anything. When he returns, I want you to treat him like any other guest. I'd like to put this incident behind us now. Why don't we go out tonight and grab dinner somewhere fun?"

"Now you're speaking my language, babe!" Yamcha wrapped his arms around Bulma and kissed her cheek.

* * *

><p>Planet 56 had gone downhill since Vegeta's last visit in his late teen years. When he landed ten kilometres outside the planet's central hub of trade and communication, the reduced light pollution actually worried Vegeta. Clearly the planet had lost priority status and the once-gleaming buildings were already dingy as he flew in and landed a few blocks from the city's core. Despite the downturn, the streets of Economic Zone 56 were crowded with soldiers, citizens, and tradespeople.<p>

"Damn it, I'm hungry..." Vegeta muttered to himself as he ducked into a narrow alleyway. He re-adjusted his headscarf so his entire face was revealed but his hair (and hairline) were still concealed. The smell of fryer grease from a nearby restaurant drifted through the alley and the Saiyan's stomach rumbled angrily.

_No time to eat yet. I need to get up-to-date information... _

Vegeta knew of a popular nightclub on Planet 56 called Sevn. It was a well-known, popular nightspot with PTO soliders, and therefore the chances of it still being open were fairly high. It took forty minutes of wandering through the dim, dirty city to find it, but the throb of bass-heavy electronic music soon drew the Saiyan closer and closer.

Not only was Sevn still in business, but it was still popular with PTO soldiers. Six soldiers hung around outside the doors, smoking cigarettes and talking very loudly. Vegeta felt his anger starting to rise at the sight of them.

"Hey, short-ass!" A tall, lean soldier with purple skin and yellow hair, clad in black leggings and armour, shoved Vegeta aside as he approached the door, "this ain't some tourist tavern! Get outta here!"

Vegeta swung around and a clenched fist made contact with soldier's jaw, shattering it and knocking several sharp teeth out of his small mouth. His scouter flew off his head and landed in the street, breaking apart into several pieces. The soldier began to wail in agony, blood and saliva pouring from his slack mouth, and he dropped to his knees and started to search for his missing teeth on the sidewalk.

Five scouters beeped and chirped, warning their wearers that the figure before them had a power level of at least 35,000 and rising.

"Anybody else?" The Saiyan eyed the five standing soldiers, lips pressed into a grimace and nostrils flaring as he took several deep breaths and felt his conscience slide into that blank space Frieza had encouraged him to find and rely on decades before.

The soldiers backed away. "We d-d-didn't recognize you..."

"You," Vegeta pointed at a pig-like man with large tusks and mottled orange skin, "do you have a payment card on you?"

"Y-y-yeah... you want it?"

"Do you wish to continue living?"

The orange-skinned soldier handed a silver card to Vegeta, his meaty hands shaking so violently from terror that he almost dropped it in the process.

"Your comrade is in shock," Vegeta side-stepped the growing puddle of blood and drool on the pavement and ignored the whimpering figure a foot away, "take him to a medical center and don't come back here."

The soldiers immediately obeyed and took off, carrying their barely-conscious comrade. Vegeta turned around and went inside the nightclub, fully immersed in the detached head-space he'd learned to use as a child.

Slow night, Vegeta noted as he scanned the club and counted perhaps forty patrons, but that's probably a good thing. Less chance of a massacre.

Sevn had gone downhill. The bar and light system hadn't been replaced since Vegeta had last seen the place more than fifteen years prior. The clientele, however, remained the exact same: PTO soldiers and prostitutes.

The first place Vegeta went was the washroom to discover it was still covered in vulgar graffiti and questionable stains, with yellowing light bulbs in wire cages and a filthy stone sink. It was utterly deserted, usually a bad sign in regards to cleanliness. He snarled when he caught his reflection in the wall-to-ceiling mirror set behind the sink, spotting blood on his windbreaker. He tore the garment off, removed the contents of its pockets, and vaporized the thin jacket. He looked at his reflection again and ran his tongue over his teeth.

_Fuck it, time to be brazen. If they recognize me, they recognize me. Disguises will get me nowhere fast._

He pulled off his scarf and looped it around his waist, creating a small pouch against his hip to carry his items. The Saiyan felt rather odd in his outfit consisting of blue leggings, white T-shirt, white boots, and blue scarf-turned-belt, but it would have to do until he could get some intact armour and fresh clothing.

A young soldier walked into the washroom, recognized the petite man at the sinks as _the _Vegeta, and stopped in his tracks. Vegeta's gaze moved from the mirror to the terrified soldier, who didn't know what to do next and remained frozen in place with his jaw clenched tight and eyes wide open.

"Your clothes and armour; give them to me," Vegeta motioned at the soldier's set of armour and came closer.

"T-trade for yours?" The soldier nervously offered.

"Strip."

The soldier pulled off his gloves and kicked off his boots, pulled the armour over his head and set it on the floor. He peeled his thermal top and leggings off and set each item on the sink, careful to avoid any spots of water. He started to pull down his underwear when Vegeta shook his head.

"Good. Put your hands on your head and turn to face the wall."

The terrified soldier once again did what he was told without resisting. Vegeta could see his legs shaking.

"Don't piss yourself, boy," barked Vegeta as he took off his clothes, "the floors are already bad enough in here!"

The Saiyan was back into formfitting thermal gear and armour in under a minute and immediately started to feel more like himself again. He tucked his vials and gold into a small pocket located in the right shoulder and once again looked himself over in the mirror.

"Now that's more like it! Here's your new clothing, soldier. Once you're dressed, you leave through the fire exit and don't come back."

Vegeta left without waiting for a response from the soldier. As he moved towards the bar, the music continued to throb but many soldiers stopped speaking and watched the Saiyan in utter disbelief as he hopped on a stool and scanned the selection of alcohol available at the bar.

He ordered a bottle of beer before acknowledging two stunned soldiers to his right. "So, what exactly are you looking at?"

"You're Vegeta... aren't you?"

"In the flesh," the Saiyan continued to look at the different liquor bottles and sipped his beer, "not looking for a fight, though. That said, if you want to die, challenge me tonight."

Slowly, the level of conservation rose again and almost everybody made a point of giving Vegeta a very wide berth. After spending fifteen minutes at the bar, a soldier who recognized Vegeta and recalled working with him some ten years prior approached.

"Let's get a booth, Vegeta. There is so much we need to talk about," the soldier stood to Vegeta's left and gave a slow nod to the Saiyan when he looked up from his beer. He was nearly seven feet tall, with silky green hair pulled back into a long ponytail, soft violet skin, and large blue eyes. His nose was straight and narrow, chin noble and strong, cheekbones high and well-defined.

Vegeta recognized the soldier as Jabuka, a veteran of the PTO and somebody he had worked with on a few high-security deliveries and assassinations in his early twenties. He seemed to recall Jabuka having a power level similar to Cui's and had once lost a sparring match against the older soldier. Although the two had nothing in common and rarely spoke while working together, Vegeta considered Jabuka a decent, fairly intelligent comrade. He accepted the invitation and followed Jabuka to a booth at the back of the club.

"I can't believe it," Jabuka looked Vegeta up and down through narrowed eyes and sensed something about him was different, "you're alive and well, and I've been under the impression that you've been dead for more than eight months."

"Eight months? That long, huh? The slouches on Ardeheb just said I'd been killed by Frieza."

"Ardeheb?! What were you doing on that hell hole?"

The Saiyan shrugged. "What have you been up to, Jabuka? You look well."

"Same old, same old. Deliveries and the occasional assassination. It's not the most exciting work, but the pay is good and the schedule's easy. I'm more interested in what you've been doing. Let's be honest, Vegeta, you don't give a damn about what I've been doing for the last ten years. Don't bullshit me or try to make me feel easy about you being on this planet when you were supposedly killed. Something's up and I want to know what."

"Fair enough," Vegeta drained his beer and flagged a waitress, "just what exactly would you like to know?"

Jabuka removed his scouter and dropped it behind the booth. "For starters: how are you still alive?"

"Luck and skill."

The handsome soldier accepted Vegeta's response. "Where have you been hiding?"

The waitress approached. Vegeta ordered another beer for himself and pointed at Jabuka, who asked for a potent fruit-flavoured spirit on ice. He produced the payment card he'd taken from the soldier at the door and tapped it against the sensor hooked to the waitresses' belt.

"Who says I've been hiding? I've been travelling, interacting with all sorts of interesting people, picking up some new tricks. You know, all the fun stuff." Vegeta's lopsided smirk grew as he spoke.

"Cut the crap, Vegeta," Jabuka scowled at the Saiyan and unconsciously started to play with the end of his ponytail.

Vegeta laughed at Jabuka's annoyance. "I'll be perfectly honest, Jabuka, I'm out of the loop too. I was told that Frieza's alive and well, and that he killed me and ate my heart. I was also told that Frieza's en-route to some "unknown" planet in search of treasure."

The soldier nodded at Vegeta. "That's the story... but I get the feeling that you know more."

"I might," Vegeta pulled his beer off the tray as the waitress arrived at their booth, "but why should I tell you?"

Jabuka sniffed his drink and set it down on the low circular table between them. "You were always hard to deal with, Vegeta... how's Cui? Didn't he join your team for a while?"

"Cui's dead."

"What?!"

Vegeta's responded by shrugging and taking a long sip of beer. He set the beer on the table and pulled out his vial of stimulants. He wiggled the vial at Jabuka before twisting it open and placing two tiny pills on his tongue.

"Still into feeling fast, eh Vegeta?"

"I'm even faster now, Jabuka," Vegeta took another sip of beer and swallowed the pills, wondering how quickly they'd take to kick in on an empty stomach, "but it has nothing to do with these pills and everything to do with constant training and improvement. I just want to have some fun tonight. You want some?"

"Thanks, but I'll stick to liquor. What happened to Cui? I mean, when did he die? Who killed him?!"

"I killed him almost six months ago. His biggest mistake was following me around."

The violet skinned soldier couldn't believe what he was hearing! How could Vegeta have possibly killed Cui when the Saiyan had once been incapable of even besting him in a sparring session?

"Unbelievable... if what you are saying is true, then you've grown very strong, Vegeta."

"I don't lie. Heard from Dodoria lately, Jabuka?"

"No."

"That's because Dodoria's dead."

Jabuka felt his stomach start to clench. Sweat prickled the skin along his hairline.

"What about Zarbon? Any news about him?" Vegeta continued, keeping his eyes locked on Jabuka as he took another sip of beer. The Saiyan's stare was as chilling as Jabuka had remembered, and the soldier was almost too frightened to tell Vegeta that he hadn't heard a thing.

"Zarbon's dead too. Blew a hole in his stomach."

Neither of them said anything for many minutes. The music continued to blare through ageing speakers and the din of conversation and cigarette smoke drifted through the air.

Finally, Jabuka found the courage to speak: "I knew that story about your death seemed odd. But did you really abandon your mission? I found out you were assigned to purge Ahdar with Raditz and Nappa..."

"Oh yeah, they're dead too. Thanks for reminding me." Vegeta felt his pulse quicken and his hunger started to subside.

Jabuka nearly choked on his liquor. "What?! Holy shit, you must be joking!"

Vegeta laughed at Jabuka's shocked expression and stretched out across his wide seat. "Raditz was killed by his amnesiac brother and a Namekian on a very distant planet well outside PTO boundaries, and I dispatched Nappa after he suffered a serious spinal injury."

Another long stretch of silence passed. Jabuka was certain that his life would be over within a few hours. "What are really you doing here, Vegeta?"

"I'm looking for somebody, but more specifically, I'm on the planet in the hopes that I can get some food to stock my ship for at least two or three weeks."

"You have a ship? With living facilities on board and everything?"

"It's designed for one person, but yes."

"You'd have to get to a food distributor," suggested Jabuka, "there are some in this city, but I can't tell you if they're open at this hour."

"That's fine. I can wait."

"Do you want another drink, Vegeta?"

Vegeta quickly got to his feet and took Jabuka's empty glass. "I insist on buying the next round, Jabuka. It's been nice catching up with you. Same thing as before?"

"Yeah... please." Jabuka looked at Vegeta with a raised brow.

"I'll be back."

Vegeta returned to the bar and asked for two glasses of the spirit Jabuka had been drinking. "Make them both doubles!" He called to the bartender. Back turned to the bar, he reached into the pocket inside his armour and found the vial of powdered White Aura. He popped the cap open with his right thumb, dumped a little into the palm of his left hand, shut the vial and tucked it back into his pocket. He turned around in time to see the bartender set the drinks down on the bar, and quickly dumped the powder into one of the drinks as he picked them up.

The Saiyan returned to the booth, swinging his hips and swirling the glasses in time to the music, and slid the tampered drink to Jabuka. He sat back down and raised his glass. "I propose a toast, Jabuka! Here's to meeting old comrades and enjoying their company. I am so glad you approached me tonight."

Reluctantly, Jabuka raised his glass and clinked his against Vegeta's. He took a sip of his drink.

**To Be Continued**


	16. The Warning

Human Hospitality

by pureleaf

Chapter 16

The Warning

* * *

><p>Jabuka watched in disbelief as Vegeta finished half his liquor in a single gulp and slammed the glass down on the table.<p>

"Easy there, Vegeta... you aren't twenty one any more."

"Eat me, Jabuka. This is good stuff, and besides, I'm only thirty one."

"Which supposedly is still very young for you Saiyans..."

"Precisely! Are you still working with a team, Jabuka?"

"No," Jabuka took another sip of his liquor, "working on my own suits me just fine. Why should I split my pay with anybody else when I've proven time and time again that I don't need any help?"

Vegeta nodded in agreement. "I like how you think. I just wish it were easier to do purges on my own. Weren't you intent on joining the Ginyu Force at one point?"

Jabuka started to crack up laughing at the mention of the flamboyant group of mercenaries. "Ah, don't remind me! I did in fact audition about eight years ago, but they said I didn't have the "it factor" to be a member."

"You must have been crushed," Vegeta rolled his eyes and shifted in his seat, trying to feel his pulse. His body was starting to feel warm. A bead of sweat rolled down the back of his neck.

"Didn't you want to try out too, Vegeta? I seem to recall you keeping tabs on the Ginyus for at least a year."

"Hey! I kept tabs on them because I wanted to figure out their individual weaknesses. That was before they had, uh, what's his name? Guldo... he's the short one," Vegeta made a point of mentioning Guldo in the present tense, "my thinking back then was that if I singled out the weakest member, I'd kill them in a sparring session and they'd have to accept me as a replacement. Of course, that didn't happen... I actually auditioned about six years ago. On a whim."

"Of course you did. What was their reason for turning you down?"

"The official reason is that I was too short and not good-looking enough to join. What a ton of crap! I'm better looking than all of those fools."

Jakuba shrugged. Vegeta wasn't an ugly man, but he wasn't conventionally attractive either. "I haven't heard from the Ginyus in a long time. Probably on some top-secret, high priority mission."

"You don't say..." Vegeta looked up at the ceiling and pursed his lips.

Jabuka took another small sip of his liquor and started to feel very unsettled. He got the feeling that Vegeta was playing dumb in regards to what he really knew about the Ginyu Force.

The Saiyan was letting his head roll from side to side; a classic sign that he was under the influence, thought Jabuka, clearly he hasn't matured whatsoever.

Finally: "I think you know something about the Ginyus, too. Don't you, Vegeta? Your smirk gives you away..."

The Saiyan cracked up laughing. His pupils were dilated and his cheeks were starting to get flushed. "Who says I know anything about them? I don't give a damn about the Ginyus."

Jabuka glared at Vegeta through squinted eyes and shook his head in disapproval. "You haven't changed at all, Vegeta. About a year ago, before the story that you were killed by Frieza started to circulate, I heard you went totally insane and were suffering from delusions."

"Crazy is as crazy does," Vegeta drained his glass of liquor and flagged the waitress again.

Feeling a bit competitive with the petite Saiyan, Jabuka downed the rest of his drink in a single gulp and told Vegeta to buy him another one.

_Perfect. He's going to be real compliant before long. Another drink should do it._

Once again, Vegeta ordered two double portions of the fruit-flavoured spirit on ice. He took another stimulant pill to combat the effects of the alcohol, a move that made Jabuka shake his head with disapproval and he warned Vegeta that somebody was eventually going to take advantage of the Saiyan when he was too intoxicated to know what was going on.

"Vegeta, you are opening yourself up to being taken advantage of. It's only a matter of time before you encounter an enemy that you cannot defeat. At the rate you're going, you'll be killed in a bar fight or somebody's going to start stalking you and will wait until you take one of your binges too damn far before closing in on you."

"Mm, like Cui? Why do you even care, Jabuka? It's not like we're close friends or anything. I'm much, much more powerful than I was when we worked together all those years ago, and I'm only getting stronger with each passing day. There is nobody who can defeat me now."

The handsome soldier mirrored Vegeta's smirk. "You may consider yourself confident, but I think you're just arrogant, Vegeta, and you've always been _very_ arrogant. You bite off far more than you can chew and have only managed to survive for this long due to your sheer dumb luck."

"Excuse me, but I do believe I said that my survival was the result of luck _and _skill..."

"Sooner or later you're going to meet your match, Vegeta, and you will die horribly. It may not even be a person that kills you..."

"Oh, I've already died once, Jabuka. Didn't go to Hell, though..." Vegeta leaned back in his seat and raised his glass in a mock toast to Jabuka's warning.

"Maybe those rumours about you being delusional had some truth to them after all..." Jabuka started to take larger sips of his drink. Suddenly, a cold numbness seemed to bubble up in his stomach and spread through his torso second by second.

Ohhhh shit, thought Jabuka, eyes flickering back and forth between Vegeta and his glass.

"Frieza did in fact kill me," Vegeta leaned across the table to take a close look at Jabuka's pupils as they started to constrict, "but even Hell didn't know how to handle me. I literally rose out of my own grave when I was revived. And, for the record, only Captain Ginyu is still alive, and he's wisely chosen to go into retirement. You'll never see or hear from him again."

The glass slipped from Jabuka's fingers and shattered on the floor as he realized the numbness was spreading into his limbs.

"Feeling alright, Jabuka? Let's go to your place," Vegeta rose from the booth and pulled Jabuka from his seat. Unable to fight back, Jabuka struggled to keep his balance as the Saiyan dragged him towards the fire exit.

"Wait, Vegeta... the alarm will sound..." Jabuka heard his speech slurring and knew he was doomed. He could barely control his legs as they reached the door.

"Nah," the Saiyan kicked the door open, "the fire alarm should have been replaced along with the crappy sound system at least ten years ago."

* * *

><p>"Who ordered the five alarm chicken wings?" A chubby server with pink hair styled in braids and a straw cowboy hat set a large circular tray loaded with food and drinks on the table.<p>

"Me!" Yamcha pulled the basket right off the tray and resisted the urge to dig in immediately, "I hope you brought extra dipping sauce, miss!"

Jimmy's Texas Grill was one of Yamcha's favourite restaurants. It was huge, brightly lit, featured huge booths and dozens of televisions all turned to sports. Best of all, the food was inexpensive and the portions were massive. Bulma wasn't very fond of the restaurant, but she wanted to make Yamcha happy after they'd decided to make up yet again.

Over dinner and drinks, Yamcha told Bulma about his training on King Kai's planet and his strengthened friendship with Tien and Chiaotzu. He'd worked hard and felt confident about everything he'd learned from King Kai, although he also admitted that he wondered what Goku would be like when he returned to Earth.

"I wonder when he'll return period. But I don't think Goku would say he'd return if he wasn't absolutely certain he'd be coming back," said Bulma, picking at the rice and beans on her plate. She'd ordered grilled chicken but hadn't enjoyed her dinner very much.

"While I hate to bring up him up, when do you think Vegeta will come back? You said he'd be coming back too, right?"

Bulma nodded and pushed her plate aside. "If he monitors and limits the amount of power he uses on-board, he'll have enough fuel for about twenty months."

"Do you really think he'll come back?"

"If Goku plans to come back, then Vegeta will follow... but enough about him! You wanna get dessert, Yamcha?"

* * *

><p>After it took twenty minutes to flag down a taxi and ten minutes of repeatedly asking the drugged soldier where he lived, Vegeta managed to drag Jabuka into his small, tidy apartment and dumped his limp body on the kitchen floor. The tall solider moaned and whimpered as Vegeta stepped over his numb body and started to search through the cupboards. Every thought Jabuka tried to develop slipped away and felt as though his brain had become completely detached from his body.<p>

"You'd better have some food in here, I swear..." the Saiyan opened the refrigerator and found a selection of fresh meat, fruit, exotic milk products, and several bottles of juice, mineral waters, and wine.

He sat on Jabuka's couch, turned on the television and switched it to a news station, and started eating. Over the course of an hour, Vegeta consumed four raw steaks sourced from an unknown creature, more than two pounds of fruit, and a bottle of sparkling water. The more the Saiyan ate, the more grounded he started to feel.

"B-b-b... bbbvvveg...e...da...vvvv..." Jabuka tried to roll onto his back. He started to cough and gag.

The Saiyan rose from the couch and pulled Jabuka up by the shoulder strap of his armour and dragged him to the couch Vegeta had just occupied. "You're in for a rough day, friend," he lay Jabuka on his side and arranged his limbs and chin so his throat would remain unobstructed, "and you may not even remember our meeting. Even better that you seem to have left your scouter at that dump of a nightclub! Jabuka, where is your payment card?"

"Arm..rrrrr..." he slurred, fighting to keep his eyes open.

Vegeta pulled the chest armour off his former comrade and found the card in a chest pocket. Jabuka was barely conscious and drooling.

"Where is your tablet?"

The tall soldier's response was unintelligible. He's probably too messed up right now, Vegeta reasoned, I'll give him a couple of hours to start metabolizing the drug. In the meantime, I can find the stupid tablet myself.

Vegeta went into Jabuka's bedroom and found the tablet on his bedside table. He sat on the bed and found the application to access Jabuka's bank account. After submitting the number on the card, he discovered his old comrade had over two million credits to his name. Not bad for somebody who does solitary work, thought Vegeta. He checked the card belonging to the pig-like soldier and found there was forty five thousand credits available.

The urge to check his own bank account was nearly unbearable, but Vegeta resisted for the fear that logging in would trigger a reaction and alert authorities that he was on Planet 56.

He took the tablet and bank card into the kitchen and found a small knife in a wooden block on the spotless counter. Carefully, he cut around the silver chip in the centre of the card until it was loose and he popped it out with his thumbs. He put the chip in a small pocket on his right shoulder and threw the damaged card in the trash disposal.

For the next two hours, Vegeta kept an eye on Jabuka while watching the news channel and munched on fruit and a box of sweets he found in the refrigerator. There was no news about Frieza's health or any rogue soldiers. Vegeta considered it a good sign and relaxed.

The sky was starting to grow light when Jabuka came to and managed to speak (somewhat) clearly: "...whatsh going on?"

"You said there were food distributors in the city. Where?"

"Eassht..." Jabuka shook a little, trying to move his body. He would be paralysed from the shoulders down for another six hours and wouldn't regain any sensation in his legs for another day.

"You should be able to walk normally late tomorrow. I didn't want to kill you, but I was certain you weren't going to give me your money voluntarily, so I figured this was a good way to get what I wanted without resorting to violence." Vegeta took a huge pack from the front closet and threw some beverages and all the packaged food inside. He went into the washroom and took the First Aid items and medicines, and then went out to the small balcony, left the sliding glass door and screen wide open, and flew away.

**To Be Continued**


	17. Unpleasant Dream

Human Hospitality  
>by pureleaf<p>

Chapter 17  
>Unpleasant Dream<p>

Author's Note: Thank you all for your wonderful comments!

* * *

><p>With the huge refrigerator, freezer, and the cupboards stuffed with enough food to last at least three weeks, Vegeta felt a huge sense of satisfaction as he took off from Planet 56 and once again chose not to set any coordinates right away.<p>

He had spent close to eight thousand credits on food alone. Vegeta spotted an impressive selection of wine, but limited his selection to six bottles. The sheer amount of food he purchased forced Vegeta to request the workers at the food distribution centre to pack the food into huge canvas packs he could strap on to his back. It took three high-altitude flights (it was cold enough to make Vegeta wish he'd kept his scarf) to get all the food, but he moved so quickly that it was all done before the street lamps were turned off for the daylight hours.

Once Vegeta unpacked the food he actually paid for, took the canvas bag he'd filled at Jabuka's apartment into his small living room and took a seat on the couch. The bag was filled with selections that could be best described as _gourmet. _The Saiyan snacked on roasted nuts as he looked through a variety of fruit preserves, cheese, dried meats, jars of pickled vegetables, fruit juices and two small bottles of the same liquor he'd had at Sevn the night prior.

Vegeta had also taken a First Aid kit containing healing sprays, bandages, painkillers, antibacterial soaps, basic surgical tools, a packet of single-use syringes, and a vial of local anaesthetic. He hummed with approval and leaned back in his two-seat couch.

"I'm going to keep eating like the royalty I am, regardless of where I am!"

The stimulants were starting to wear off, and Vegeta decided it would be best if he wound down until he could sleep for a few hours and let his body recover. He scrolled through the selection of films and programmes on the hard drive yet again and settled on a film about a creature that drank human blood and avoided sunlight.

**"INCOMING VIDEO CALL... INCOMING VIDEO CALL... INCOMING VIDEO CALL..."**

Vegeta paused the film and pressed the accept button on the entertainment console. A flat-screen monitor descended from the ceiling and switched on.

"Good morning! Did I interrupt you?" Bulma waved to the camera. She was in a loose t-shirt that hung off one of her shoulders and a pair of black shorts, sitting cross-legged in a high-backed leather office chair.

"Heh, good morning to you too, Bulma. It was early morning on the planet I just left. You didn't really interrupt me... I'm just trying to wind down. Some film about a human-looking man who drinks blood... it's alright..."

"Guess you could say I have great timing! Where did you go? What have you been up to?"

"Planet 56. I did a grocery run and had a few drinks with an old friend at an old haunt I spent too much time at in my twenties."

Bulma knew it was likely a good idea to accept his answer and not ask about what he'd really been up to. "What's with the getup?"

"Needed some armour, so I got some armour. Anyway, why did you call me?" Vegeta looked in the waxed paper pouch for any remaining nuts and found he was all out. He immediately tore into a pouch of jerky to his left and continued eating.

"I wanted to see how you were doing, but I also called to talk to you about monitoring the fuel levels on the ship so you don't wind up stranded somewhere."

"I'll call you back later," he said through a mouthful of jerky, "I'm going to bed soon."

Bulma looked at Vegeta's image on the monitor. He seemed a bit out of it, his face was pale and looked greasy. His eyes seemed bloodshot. "Sure thing, Vegeta. You look kind of wired on something. Are you alright?"

"I'll feel a lot better after some sleep. Good-bye."

The Saiyan disconnected from the call before Bulma could respond and the monitor rose back up into the ceiling. He pulled off his boots, gloves, and armour, turned off the television and all of lights before turning in to bed. He was thrilled to be curled up in a warm, comfortable, safe spot.

_Vegeta walked down a corridor kept so cold that breath left his body as puff of steam. The floors were made of cream-coloured marble, the walls looked like carved violet glass. Cape wrapped protectively around his body, Vegeta moved swiftly, knowing it was unwise to stop for even a second when enemies could be hiding in the shadows. _

_The corridor seemed to dissolve around him and Vegeta found himself standing in a windowless, circular room with cream walls and floor of black onyx shot with bands of royal purple, perhaps four or five feet away from a massive egg that appeared to float a meter above the floor. _

"_Come, child," a sickening, reedy voice that made the Saiyan's skin erupt in goose-pimples reverberated through the space, "tell me about your training session." _

_The egg slowly rotated counter-clockwise until Vegeta found himself face-to-face with Frieza in his base form, curled up with his tail draped across his slender, scaly legs, with a large glass of wine in his left hand and chin resting in his right palm. _

"_Sixteen Saibamen destroyed within an hour, Lord Frieza. I am refining a psychic shock-wave attack that is capable of disemboweling a Saibaman from four metres away. I grow more efficient with each passing day. I wish to go into combat now! Why must I wait?"_

_Cackling laughter like seemed to turn Vegeta's blood to ice echoed through the chamber. "Ah, Vegeta! You are so eager, but you are still so young! Why push the issue now? Another year of training would do you well before you enter the life of a Planet Trade soldier."_

"_But Lord Frieza, haven't I proven my strength already? Nappa cannot kill that many Saibamen at a time! Raditz can only kill six in an hour, if he's lucky!" _

_Frieza extended a manicured hand and ran his icy fingers through Vegeta's hair and brushed a stray hair away from his eyes. The tyrant pinched the young Saiyan's cheek affectionately but the pressure he used bordered on painful. "We must first see to it that you harden your heart completely, Vegeta. You are not like the others- you are truly special. Vegeta, you are like a son to me, and I wish you see you return from the missions I will soon send you on. Be patient and use this time to grow even stronger."_

"_I wish to speak with my father before I enter combat, Lord Frieza." _

"_In good time, my boy..."_

Vegeta's eyes snapped open and he sat up in bed, discovering he was drenched in sweat and his heart was pounding. He switched on the bedside lamp and eyed his surroundings, confirming he was in his ship and he was all alone. When he glanced over at the alarm clock, Vegeta was surprised he'd slept for four hours.

He took a hot shower and changed out of the thermal gear he'd stolen from the soldier and into flannel drawstring pants and a loose black t-shirt. Still tired but on edge from his deeply unpleasant dream (he refused to call them nightmares) he went into the kitchenette and drank a bottle of fruit juice. Stomach rumbling, he unwrapped a portion of meat, sprinkled it with salt and pepper, and ate it raw. It was good, but meat always tasted best when it was at body temperature or room temperature, he decided.

After sleeping for another five hours, Vegeta finally felt like he'd returned to baseline and considered calling Bulma.

Do I really want to know how much fuel I have, he asked himself, maybe I should just keep going and pick up another ship if this one malfunctions...

He paced around the ship, turning light fixtures on and off and checking his wardrobe to make sure everything was as organized as he'd left it just a few hours prior. For the first time in many years, Vegeta started to thik about his younger brother. He'd never learned where Tarble had been sent, or if he'd even survived his journey through space.

_Even if he survived the journey, what are the chances he's out there and thriving? Slim to none. He's long gone, Vegeta, and you're never going to find him. Tarble is dead, along with Father, Nappa, Raditz, and everybody else. There's only one living Saiyan you may be capable of tracking down yet and he's the only one you should think about. Find Kakkarot and quit being sentimental over the sibling who probably forgot all about you, assuming he's even still alive! _

Vegeta sat down at the pilot's chair in front of the huge console and mentally prepared himself to call Bulma. He heaved a sigh and typed in her contact number.

**"OUTGOING VIDEO CALL... PLEASE WAIT WHILE CONNECTION IS ESTABLISHED..."**

****

**To Be Continued **


	18. Calm Before a Storm

Human Hospitality

by pureleaf

Chapter 18

Calm Before A Storm

* * *

><p>Bulma was sitting on her bed and painting her toenails when her computer monitor switched itself on and the connection signal rang in her speakers. She swung her legs across the mattress and hobbled over to her desk. She accepted the call and sat back in her chair.<p>

"Hello there!" She waved to the camera when Vegeta's camera connected.

"I'm calling you back now," he said, voice a little raspier than normal, "what's going on?"

"How are you? You looked like hell when I called you this morning, Vegeta. I was a little worried, to be honest."

"Quit that at once- I don't need your pity. I just had a long night and drank too much. My friend was in even worse shape when I took off!" He barked a dry, bitter laugh.

"Uh huh," Bulma pulled her right leg up and rested her heel on the edge of her seat, "sounds like it. Well, you do look better-rested now. Anyway, the reason I called earlier today was to let you know that you have about eighteen months worth of fuel on-board, assuming you're letting the fuel cells recharge every once in a while by landing on a temperate planet with adequate sunlight for at least twelve hours. The amount of electricity you're using, plus how frequently you're using the gravity simulator, is going to affect the amount of fuel you have as well."

"Hang on- you said the fuel cells recharge, correct? If these fuel cells are capable of recharging, then why are you giving me this estimate of eighteen months?"

"The fuel cells can only be recharged so many times before they lose efficiency and become more prone to malfunction. If you're very careful about your power consumption and don't run the gravity simulator at high levels for hours every day, you may be able to push two years of travel, but I cannot make any guarantees for your safety." Bulma started to pick at the tissue she'd wound between her toes to keep them separate.

"So what you're telling me is that I have about one and a half Earth years to look for Kakkarot?"

"Pretty much. Whatever you're doing out there, Vegeta, just plan your journey accordingly. You can always monitor your fuel levels by accessing the "Settings" drop menu and looking for the icon with a blinking blue ring."

"Thanks for telling me that now and not ten months from now or something."

Bulma couldn't stop herself from asking Vegeta about his at least some of his intentions. "I don't mean to impose, Vegeta, but when do you suppose you'll return to Earth? Or will you?"

"I said I would return, Bulma. I am a man of my word."

"Just be careful... and please take care of yourself. You can always call us."

"Bulma, who are you talking to?" A softer male voice could be heard entering Bulma's bedroom before Yamcha appeared behind Bulma's chair. He looked into the camera and then at Vegeta, and finally gave a small wave. "Oh, h-hey, Vegeta."

"Hello," Vegeta gave Yamcha a small nod and watched as the warrior quickly disappeared out of sight once again, "did I frighten him, Bulma? Just reassure him that I can't do any harm from where I am right now!" That wicked grin spread across his face and he chuckled at the long-haired man's nervousness.

"Well, at least you've met Yamcha now. Give him a chance, alright? You know, I'm still processing the idea of you going to a bar and actually hanging out, Vegeta."

"Haven't I mentioned something about it before?"

"Yes, you did! And I still can't imagine you hanging out in a bar! Well, maybe an old, smelly saloon where a lot of fights break out... like in a Spaghetti Western! I just figured you were always on a mission or something."

The Saiyan's mouth curled into a disapproving frown and he shook his head. "I have some standards, you know! Give me at least a little credit, woman! It was a... you people call it a nightclub, but ours never really close. Just so you know, Saiyans enjoy a good time just as much, if not more, than most humans."

"Then Yamcha and I are going to take you out for a night on the town sometime, how about that? We'll buy all your drinks. And food. Oh, and by the way, my Mom says "Hi". She thinks you're funny."

"Very cute. But if you're trying to lure me back, it isn't going to work. I will be back, Bulma, but not for a while. Good bye."

Vegeta disconnected the call and the video on his end went dark. She hated it when he disconnected so abruptly and didn't give her the chance to say goodbye.

Bulma shut her laptop and went back to painting her toenails.

"Eugh, he seems like a real jerk, huh?" Yamcha sat on the end of Bulma's bed and shook his head in disapproval at how the Saiyan had behaved during the video call.

"He can be kind of blunt and intense," Bulma said, more focused on finishing her toenails than what Yamcha had to say, "just give him time to come around."

* * *

><p>After close to fourteen hours of slowly regaining feeling in his body, Jabuka was finally able to roll off the couch, crawl to his sliding balcony door and push it shut. It took close to five minutes just to move the tempered glass door across its sliding track until he heard it click. Shivering from cold, the soldier slowly made his way into the bedroom, pulled himself into his bed, and made his way underneath the covers. Unable to yet connect his thoughts coherently, he passed out and would remain unconscious for another ten hours.<p>

* * *

><p>Ten days passed by uneventfully. Vegeta spent his time training for up to six hours at a stretch, sleeping, eating, watching a little television (he didn't know what to make of Earthling entertainment most of the time), and taking apart a scouter to wire into one of the on-board speakers so he'd have the option of listening to a live audio feed of PTO soldiers. He scanned different frequencies and disabled his outgoing communication line so there would be no chance of somebody picking up his voice or a few words from a television program broadcast in English.<p>

On the eleventh day, Vegeta was in the middle of eating a tray of previously frozen game in a heavily-spiced sauce with mixed grains alongside when he picked up a conversation between two soldiers that surprised him. He set down his meal and turned up his speaker to hear them clearly.

"...other than that, things seem to be going alright. So, I heard the craziest rumour when I stopped at Sevn for a few drinks the other night." A smooth baritone voice filled the simulator and Vegeta's teeth were set on edge, anticipating what the soldier was going to say.

"This better be a good one, Dinja!" A soldier with a noticeable lisp replied.

"Just listen, Kivi, it's good, it's good! Okay, what I hear is that a few nights ago these patrol officers get off-duty and they go to Sevn for drinks. At some point in the night they go outside to get some fresh air when some short little fucker comes up wearing some mask or a scarf or somethin'. No armour or insignias or nothin'. Anyway, one of the dudes tells the short guy to screw off. _Bad idea_. This little guy flipped out and broke the dude's jaw, and when I say broke, I mean it was busted in like six or seven places broke. Missing tons of teeth now. Naturally, these patrol guys decide to leave the dude alone and get on out of there, 'cause maybe he's some upper-ranking guy wanting to stay on the down low, y'know?"

"Ooh, this is getting interesting! Know any more?"

"Oh yeah. Anyway, the little masked dude goes into the club. Some people say he just went inside to take a piss... but you'll never guess who showed at Sevn up a little while later!"

"I really have no idea, Dinja..."

"You ever heard of that soldier called "Vegeta", Kivi? Little guy with black hair that stood up, big eyes, tail, and a nasty temper?"

"Oh, come on! Vegeta's dead. I never met the guy, but every once in a while I hear that name, and lately I've been hearing about how he's dead. What was his deal, anyway? You know anything about him? Seems like he was... well, popular wouldn't be the right word at all..."

The soldier called Dinja began chuckling. "Aw, man, I heard he was some crazy little Saiyan who bragged about being a prince and leading purge teams before supposedly going nuts and being killed, but I guess the dude's still alive after all. No word on whether or not he's sane, but I'd say no. I even heard from somebody that he was overheard talking about killing Cui! Can you even imagine?!"

The soldier with the lisp started to laugh hysterically. Incensed, Vegeta turned off the speaker and made note of he frequency he was tuned to. He'd be checking in on those soldiers again and wanted to figured out where they were heading. How dare they laugh at the mention of his name!

It's time to give the PTO an update on Frieza and his cronies, thought Vegeta. He brought up a map of the galaxy, closed in on the area he was currently travelling through, and started to list off different planets he knew of in the area.

Unable to make up his mind, he returned to eating and ultimately decided he'd give it another day before settling on his next destination.

**To Be Continued**


End file.
